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[20 Cts. 




Appletons’ 

EW Handy- Volume Series. 


A 

stroke of Diplomacy. 


VICTOR CHERBULIEZ. 



NEW YORK: 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. 


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Lcontinued on tuird page op cover.] 


APPLETONS’ NEW HANDY-VOLUME SERIES, 


3 

A 

STROKE OE DIPLOMACY. 


PROM THEyPRENCH OF 


VICTOR CHERBULIEZ, 

*» ^ 

AUTHOR OF 

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1880. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY * 


I. 

One evening, at liis return from dining at his 
club, the Marquis de Miraval found at home a let- 
ter from his niece, Madame de Penneville, who 
wrote to him from Vichy, thus : 

“ My dear Uncle : The waters here have 
done me a great deal of good. Until to-day I 
had every reason to be entirely satisfied with my 
cure ; but I am afraid the good result which I 
expected will be undone by a disagreeable bit of 
news which I have just received, and which causes 
me more trouble and annoyance than I can well 
express to you. The physicians insist that the 
first thing necessary for those who suffer from 
chronic liver-trouble is to take no care upon them- 
selves. I do not take it upon myself, but others 
give me enough. My mind is tormented with the 

* The original title in the French of this story is “ Le Eoi 
Ap4pi.” 


4 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


thought of a certain Madame Corneuil, for that is 
the woman’s name. I never heard of her, hut I 
detest her without knowing her. You have seen 
a great deal of the world, and are somewhat in- 
quisitive. I am convinced, my dear uncle, that 
you know all about her. Write me at once who 
Madame Corneuil may be. It is a serious ques- 
tion to me. I will explain to you some time why 
it is so.” 

The Marquis de Miraval was an old diplomate, 
who began his career under Louis Philippe, and 
had likewise filled honorably, under the empire, 
several second-rate positions, which satisfied his 
ambition. When thrust aside by the revolution 
of September 4th, he bore it philosophically. He 
had no trouble with his liver, as had his niece. 
Neither that nor his spleen ever disturbed him in 
the least. He was in excellent health, his stom- 
ach seemed like iron, his gait was still firm, his 
sight clear, and he had an income of two hundred 
thousand livres, which is injurious to no one. As 
he always looked at the bright side of things, he 
congratulated himself upon having reached the 
age of sixty-five without losing his hair, which 
was literally white as snow ; but he never thought 
of dyeing it. As his mind and character were 
well balanced, he believed that Nature under- 
stands the fitness of things, and knows better 
than we what best becomes us ; that, after all, she 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


5 


is a kind mistress, and, at all events, an all-pow- 
erful one ; that it is useless to oppose her, and 
absurd to dispute with her, when, after all, every 
age has its own pleasures, and, having had a fair 
experience of life, good and bad, it is not disa- 
greeable to pass ten years or so in watching how 
others live, laughing to one’s self at their follies, 
and thinking, “ I am past committing them, but 
can comprehend them all.” 

As he bore no grudge to age for whitening his 
abundant chestnut locks, of which he used to be 
rather vain, so the Marquis easily forgave the 
revolutions which so prematurely closed his ca- 
reer. One has a right to rail against his judge 
for twenty-four hours, so, after relieving his anger 
by a few well-directed epigrams. Monsieur de Mi- 
raval soon consoled himself for those events which 
condemned him to be of no importance in affairs 
of state, but which restored him his independence 
by way of compensation. Liberty had always 
seemed to him the most precious of all posses- 
sions ; he considered that man happy who was 
responsible only to himself, and could order his 
life as he chose. For that reason he decided to 
remain a widower, after having been married two 
years. He was urged to marry again in vain, and 
answered in the words of a celebrated painter, 
“Would it be so delightful, then, in going home 
to find a stranger there ? ” He was always well 
received by women at their own houses, but never 


G 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


thought of them seriously, being somewhat skep- 
tical in his real opinion of them. The Marquis de 
Miraval was a wise man ; some called him an 
egotist, a distinction not always easily made. 

Whether sage or egotist, the Marquis de Mira- 
val had sincere affection for his niece, the Coun- 
tess of Penneville, and he considered it his duty 
to reply to her by return of mail. Those who 
have diseased livers should not be kept waiting. 
His answer ran in these words : 

“ My deae Mathilde : I regret infinitely that 
your cure should be retarded by care and worri- 
ment. They are the worst of all diseases, although 
they kill no one. But what is the matter, and 
what has Madame Corneuil to do with it ? What 
can there be between this woman, whom you do 
not know, and the Countess of Penneville ? I ask 
for a prompt explanation. In waiting for that, 
since you desire it, I will tell you, as best I can, 
who Madame Corneuil is — whom, however, I have 
never seen ; but I know well those who do know 
her. 

‘‘ Can it be possible, dear Mathilde, that you 
have never heard of Madame de Corneuil before 
now ? lam sorry ; it proves you are no literary 
woman ; in fact, you must be a woman who actu- 
ally never reads not even the ‘ Gazette des Tri- 
bunaux.’ Do not fancy from this sentence that 
Madame Corneuil is either a poisoner or a re- 


A STROKE OP DIPLOMACY. 


7 


ceiver of stolen goods, or that she has ever even 
appeared before the Court of Assizes ; but some 
seven or eight years ago she separated from Mon- 
sieur de Corneuil, and the affair created considera- 
ble talk. Here is the whole story, as well as I can 
remember it : 

“ Monsieur de Corneuil was formerly Consul- 
General from France to Alexandria, He was con- 
sidered a good agent, whose only fault was that 
his manner was rather brusque. That is a slight 
failing. In the country of the ‘ Courbache,’ one 
must know how to be brusque with both men and 
things. When an Oriental is not of your opinion, 
and sets too high a price upon his own, the only 
way to convince him is to strangle him ; but this 
has nothing to do with my subject. A chance, 
fortunate for some and unfortunate for others, 
sent one Monsieur Veretz to land on the quays of 
Alexandria. He was a small business agent of 
Paris, who, not succeeding there, and to escape 
from his creditors, came as fast as his legs could 
bring him to seek his fortune in the land of the 
Pharaohs. He was, it seems, very little of a man, 
of doubtful morality, and of more than equivocal 
reputation. Monsieur Veretz had a daughter, 
eighteen years old, who was bewitchingly pretty. 
How and where Monsieur Corneuil made her ac- 
quaintance, the chronicle does not say ; it tells us 
merely that this bear was very susceptible, and 
was determined to pursue his own fancies. From 


8 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


tlie first meeting with this beautiful child he fell 
desperately in love with her. Fortunately for 
Mademoiselle Hortense V4retz, her mother was 
an excellent manager — a most fortunate thing for 
a daughter. After a few weeks of vain endeavor, 
Monsieur de Corneuil was determined to overcome 
all obstacles. The Consul-General, who had a large 
fortune, persisted in marrying, for the sake of her 
beautiful eyes, a girl who had nothing, and whose 
father bore a blemished name ; still more, he mar- 
ried her without any contract at all, thereby giv- 
ing her an equal share in his property. The mat- 
ter caused great scandal. People flung his father- 
in-law at him, and openly brought insinuations 
against himseK as well, so that he was at last 
obliged to give in his resignation, and left Egypt 
to return to Perigueux, his native town, in which 
step his beautiful young wife encouraged him, for 
she longed to break away for ever from a father 
who so compromised her, and also that she might 
enjoy her new fortune in France. I remember 
hearing the whole story at the Ministry of Foreign 
Affairs, where they talked of it for a week, and 
then they talked of something else. But the ex- 
Consul was not over his troubles. Four years 
later, Madame Corneuil demanded a separation. 
Her mother had accompanied her to Perigueux : 
when one is fortunate enough to have a manoeu- 
vring mother, it is best never to part with her, and 
to be governed always by her counsel. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


9 


“ Why did Madame de Corneuil separate from 
her husband ? You must ask the lawyers. They 
were admirable on either side, and used all the 
resources of their loquacity. Both pleas, where 
epigrams alternated with apostrophes, and apos- 
trophes with invectives, were specimens of that 
elevated taste which delights the malice of the 
public. 

“ The details escape me. I have not the ‘ Ga- 
zette des Tribunaux’ at hand, but it does not 
matter — I am sure of my facts. Papin, the law- 
yer for the plaintiff, one of the first at the bar, 
protested that Monsieur Corneuil was an ugly 
fellow, a downright blockhead ; that Madame 
Corneuil was of a most exquisite nature, an an- 
gelic character ; that this monster at first loved 
this angel to distraction, but soon tired of her, 
and abused her in every way — to all of which 
Virion, the lawyer for the defense, insisted that, 
if his client had occasionally been somewhat 
hasfy in his manner toward her, he was no mon- 
ster, and that in the sweet heart of this angel 
there was considerable vinegar and a great deal 
of calculation. He tried to prove to the court 
that there was every excuse for the behavior of 
Monsieur Corneuil, but that his wife looked upon 
his determination to live in Perigueux as a crime, 
for she could not endure the place ; and, since 
she could not persuade him to change their abode 
to Paris, which she considered the only spot 


10 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


worthy of her grace and her genius, she had 
determined to lay a plan to regain her indepen- 
dence, and for that end had applied herself with 
Machiavellian ingenuity to aggravate him ; that 
she had made his home unbearable by the sharp- 
ness of her wit, by every kind of petty persecu- 
tion, by all those little pin-prickings of which, an- 
gels alone have the secret, and which drive to 
distraction even men who are not monsters ! 
Was the unfortunate man to blame for now and 
then asserting himself ? I assure you again that 
both lawyers did wonderfully well. The great 
difficulty was to know which was the liar. For 
myself, I should have dismissed both. However, 
the court sided with Papin. The separation was 
granted, and half the fortune adjudged to Ma- 
dame Corneuil. It seemed, however, that Virion 
was not entirely wrong, for six months after the 
verdict Madame Corneuil left for Paris in com- 
pany with her mother. 

“ I know beforehand, my dear Mathilde, that 
you will ask me what became of the beautiful 
Madame Corneuil in Paris. I have been out 
three times this morning for the sole end of find- 
ing out — you need not thank me, for I like it. 
Madame de Corneuil has not yet satisfied her 
secret ambition ; she can not yet say, ‘ I have 
reached it ! ’ but she is fairly on her way thither. 
The butterfly has not entirely cast aside the 
chrysalis ; but she is patient, and one day will 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


11 


spread her wings and fly in triumph from her 
sheath. Madame Corneuil gives receptions and 
dinner-parties, and holds a salon. A beautiful 
woman, with a manoeuvring mother and a good 
cook, need not fear being left to pine in solitude. 
Formerly there were to be seen at her house a 
great many literary men, especially those of the 
new school — the young men. Great good may it 
do them ! There are among them men of talent 
with a future before them, but there are also 
among them those whose novelties are not new, 
and whose youth is somewhat rank ; but that is 
no' business of mine. It does not prevent them 
from dining at Madame Corneuil’s. She is not 
merely contented with encouraging literature, she 
also manufactures it, and employs the young men 
around her to write little scraps for the lesser 
journals in praise of her. Grateful stomachs make 
most excellent heralds, and at all events she is 
rich enough to pay for her own fame. 

“ Eighteen months after her establishment in 
Paris she published a romance, which by the 
merest of all accidents fell into my hands. I con- 
fess I did not read it through to the end ; every 
variety of courage can not be looked for in one in- 
dividual. It began with the description of a mist. 
At the end of ten pages — Heaven be praised ! — 
the fog lifted, and a woman in a caUche was visi- 
ble. I remember that the caUche was bought of 
Binder ; I remember also that the woman, whose 


12 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


heart was an abyss, wore six and one-quarter 
gloves, that she had three freckles on her right 
temple — just so many, and no more — ‘ quivering 
nostrils, arms inimitably rounded, and breathless 
silences.’ I do not know if we are of the same 
opinion, but descriptions appall me, and I rush 
away. Besides, my mind is so poorly constructed 
that I can not see this woman with whose descrip- 
tion the author has taken so great pains. Good 
Homer, who does not belong to the new school, 
was satisfied to tell me merely that Achilles was 
fair, and yet I can see him before me. But what 
is to be done ? It is the fashion of our day ; they 
call it studying — what is the word? — studying 
the human documents, and it seems no one ever 
thought of that till now, not even my old friend 
Fielding, whom I reread every year. I am not 
very fond of even serious pedants, but I have a 
holy horror of pedantry when applied to the 
merest trifles. As I am no longer young, I agree 
with Voltaire, who did not like those subjects se- 
riously discussed which were not worth being 
lightly touched upon. The romance of Madame 
Corneuil, I regret to say, fell flat. She strove to 
recover herself by poetry, and published a volume 
of sonnets, in which there was no allusion what- 
ever to Monsieur Corneuil. The verses were writ- 
ten with rapid pen, but a pen sharpened by an 
angel, and full of the most exquisitely sweet and 
refined sentiment. As a general rule, the sonnets 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


13 


of wives separated from their husbands are always 
sublime. Unfortunately, there is not a great call 
for the sublime. It was a cruel disappointment 
to Madame Corneuil, who suddenly broke with 
her Muse. 

‘‘ All great artists, Mozart as well as Talley- 
rand, Raphael as well as Bismarck, have their dif- 
ferent phases. Madame Corneuil thought she had 
better change hers : she reformed the whole style 
of her house, her cooking, her furniture, and her 
dress. She turned to serious things, and suddenly 
assumed a taste for neutral tints and sober conver- 
sations, for metaphysics and feuille-morte ribbons. 
This beautiful blonde discovered that she did not 
show her right value, except in being relieved to 
half -tint against the background of a room full of 
grave people. She undertook to weed out her 
company, and gently closed her doors on nearly 
all those insignificant fellows, at least upon the 
noisiest ones, who hover about the green-rooms and 
tell coarse stories. She grew disgusted with gos- 
sip, and found that respect was more desirable, 
even at the price of a little ennui. She endeav- 
ored, henceforth, to draw around her men of po- 
sition and women of high character. It was dif- 
ficult, but, with some pains and a great deal of 
perseverance, an ambitious woman who can stand 
being bored can accomplish anything. She wrote 
no more sonnets nor romances, but rushed at full 
might into works of charity. 


14 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“Charity, my dear Mathilde, is at the same 
time, and according to circumstances, the most 
beautiful of all the virtues or the most useful oc- 
cupation. You have your poor, and God alone 
can tell how much you love them, how you care 
for them and cherish them ; but your left hand 
knows naught of what your right hand doeth. I 
do not know if Madame de Corneuil has often seen 
the poor ; but, instead of that, she goes and comes, 
and agitates and schemes, and preaches. She is 
on six committees and twelve sub-committees ; she 
is an incomparable beggar, a very expert cashier, 
an experienced treasurer, and accomplished vice- 
president. Yes, my dear, they say no one can 
preside better than she. It is the very best way 
to push one’s self into society. I must add that, 
although she composes poetry no longer, she has 
not given up prose. She has written an eloquent 
treatise on ‘The Apostleship of Woman,’ which is 
sold for the benefit of a new hospital, and which 
has reached its fifth edition. The sonnets were 
sublime, but the treatise is more than sublime. It 
is a mixture of the tenderness of Saint Fran§ois 
de Sales and the spirituality of Saint Theresa. 
Never has the sugar-plum been held so high out 
of the reach of our poor humanity — it is not even 
in the air which we can breathe, but in pure ether. 
I am curious to know what Monsieur Corneuil and 
Perigueux think of it. The young fellow who fur- 
nished me with all these details spoke in rather a 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


15 


satirical manner ; I asked him why, and he con- 
tinued : ‘ That really few knew her well. My 
opinion,’ he said, ‘is that she is a cool, calculating 
woman ; that she is determined to have a position, 
and to satisfy her ambition by fail’ means or’ foul. 
She aspires to become a leader, to have a hand in 
politics, and her dream is to marry some great 
name, or else a deputy.’ The young fellow said 
all this with a little bitterness. I learned that for 
nearly a year he has neither dined nor put his foot 
in the house of Madame Corneuil. Montesquieu 
used to say, ‘ Father Tournemine and I have quar- 
reled, so you must believe neither when we talk 
of one another.’ So I only believe half of what 
the young man says. 

“ This is all the information I can give you, 
my dear Mathilde ; tell me what you want of it ? 
Your old uncle embraces you tenderly. 

“ P. S. — I open my letter to say that as I was 
going to put my letter in the box on my way to 
dinner, by the grace of Heaven I met the lawyer 
Papin at the corner of the Rue Choiseul. It was 
his eloquence that gained the case for the. amiable 
lady whom you seem to have taken a grudge 
against, no one knows why. I asked him for still 
further information. Madame de Corneuil has 
changed her style again, and I begin to think she 
changes too often. I am afraid she has not that 
concentrated mind or that persistence which is 


16 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


necessary for great enterprises. I have my doubts 
of those impulsive creatures who go by fits and 
starts. At my very first words, Papin bridled up 
and straightened himself, after the manner of law- 
yers, as if he bore the weight of the universe on 
his shoulders, and broadened them lest it should 
fall. As if he were apostrophizing a judge, he ex- 
claimed : ‘ Monsieur le Marquis, that woman is 
simply a marvel of Christian virtue. She heard 
eighteen months ago that her husband had a dan- 
gerous attack of the lungs. What did she do ? 
Forgetting her own wrongs and her justifiable re- 
sentment, she rushed to him in Perigueux, and 
has become reconciled to him. Monsieur Corneuil 
was advised to go to Egypt ; she left everything 
to accompany him, to become the nurse of a brute 
whose harshness had endangered her own life. 
Was I not right in affirming to the court that 
Madame de Corneuil was an angel ? ’ ‘ There is 

no need of getting excited,’ said I to him ; ‘ I ad- 
mire her fine character as well as you, but might 
it not be that, after having obtained, thanks to 
you, half of the fortune, this angel proposes to se- 
cure the other half as her inheritance ? ’ 

“ He made a gesture of indignation, straight- 
ened himself again — ‘ Ah ! Monsieur le Marquis,’ 
answered he, ‘ you never believed in women ; you 
are a horrible skeptic.’ I looked at him, he looked 
at me ; I laughed, and he began to laugh. I think 
we must have resembled the augurs of Cicero. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 17 

The good of it all, my dear Mathilde, is that 
you have no further need of explaining yourself 
to me. Listen to me. This is just what has hap- 
pened : Your son Horace, an Egyptologist of great 
promise, 'who does me the honor of being my 
great-nephew, has been in Egypt for two years. 
There he has met a lovely blonde, and for the first 
time his heart has spoken ; he could not keep from 
writing you about it, hence his letters are filled 
with Madame Corneuil, and your maternal anxiety 
is aroused. Am I not right ? For shame ! you 
are ungrateful toward Providence. You have a 
thousand times reproached your son for being too 
sober, too serious, too much given to study ; 
scorning society, women, gayety, and business ; 
cherishing no other dream but that of some day 
composing a large book which will reveal to the 
astonished universe the ancient secrets of four 
thousand years. You flattered yourself that you 
might see him either in the Chamber of Deputies, 
the Council of State, or in diplomacy : his refusal 
made you wretched. From his most tender in- 
fancy he cried to be taken to the Egyptian Mu- 
seum at the Louvre, and could have told with his 
eyes closed what was in the Cabinet K, and the 
Case Q, in the room of sacred antiquities. It is no 
fault of mine. I did not make him. This truly 
extraordinary youth never loved any one but the 
goddess Isis, wife of Osiris. He was never inter- 
ested in any events but such as took place under 
2 


18 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


Sesostris the Great. The most heated discussions 
of our deputies and the most eloquent words they 
might utter always seemed tame to him in com- 
parison with the story of the Pharaohs. He liked, 
better than all the amusements you might offer to 
him, a papyrus mounted on linen or pasteboard, a 
mummy’s mask, a hawk, symbol of the soul, or a 
pretty scarahceus of gold, emblem of immortality. 
I speak knowingly, for he honored me with his 
confidence. The last time I saw. him I shall long 
remember : I found him shut up with hieroglyphic 
writing arranged backward in columns, and orna- 
mented with drawings of faces. He seemed much 
annoyed at being interrupted in this enchanting 
Ute-d-tUe. At the head of the manuscript was a 
man with a yellow face, hair painted blue, and his 
forehead ornamented with a lotus-bud and a great 
white cone. I touched one of the columns and 
said to the dear child, ‘Great decipherer, what 
can all this conundrum be ? ’ He answered, with- 
out being offended : ‘ My dear uncle, this conun- 
drum, which, by your leave, is very plain, is of 
the greatest importance, and signifies that the 
keeper of the flocks of Ammon, Amen-Heb, the 
ever-truthful, and his wife, who loves him, Amen- 
Apt, the ever-truthful, render homage to Osiris, 
dwelling in the land of the West, ruler of times 
and seasons, to Ptah-Sokari, ruler of the tomb, 
and to the great Turn, who made the heavens and 
created all the essences coming out of the earth.’ 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


19 


I listened to him with so much interest that the 
next day he meant to confer a great favor upon 
me by sending me the entire history of Amen-Heh, 
written down. I read it once every year, on his 
birthday. Could any one accuse me of neglecting 
my duty as a great-uncle? 

“ Do not deny, my dear, that this mania made 
you desperate. Then why do you complain ? 
Your son is nearly saved. Heaven has sent Ma- 
dame de Corneuil to him. She will teach him a 
great many things of which he is ignorant, and 
lead him to unlearn a great deal else. In her 
beautiful eyes he will forget Amenophis III. of 
the eighteenth dynasty. Amen- Apt the ever-truth- 
ful, and the man with the great white cone. Do 
not grudge him his tardy enjoyment, to say no- 
thing about charity toward a poor nurse of an 
invalid. Everything is going on well, my dear 
Mathilde. Write me that, on further reflection, 
you agree with me.” 

The next day but one, the Marquis de Miraval 
received the following short reply from his niece : 

^‘My dear Uncle : Your letter and the in- 
formation you have been so kind as to gather for 
me have only doubled my anxiety. Madame 
Corneuil is an intriguer. Why must Horace be 
caught in her toils ? Since I lost my husband, 
you have been my only counselor and my first re- 


20 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


sort. Kever did I need your assistance more. It 
is cruel to tear you away from your dear Paris, 
but I know your kind feelings in my behalf, your 
care for the interests of our family, and your al- 
most fatherly love for my poor, silly Horace. I 
implore you to come to Vichy, that we may con- 
sult together. I summon you, and shall expect you.” 

Madame de Penneville was right in thinking 
it would be hard for her uncle to leave Paris ; 
since be had left diplomacy, he could not endure 
any other spot. In the hottest months of sum- 
mer, when every one goes away, he never dreamed 
of leaving. He preferred to the most beautiful 
pine-trees, the tiny-leaved elms, which he saw 
from the terrace of his club, where he spent the 
greater part of his days and even of his nights. 
INTevertheless, this egotist or philosopher always 
had at heart the interest of his nephew, whom he 
intended to make his heir ; and, besides, he was 
very curious about it all, and did not conceal it. 
With a sigh he ordered his valet to pack his 
trunks, and that very evening left for Vichy. 

Informed by telegraph, Madame de Penneville 
was waiting for him at the station. She rushed 
to meet him as soon as he came in sight, saying : 

“Fancy it — that woman is a widow, and he 
really means to marry her ! ” 

“ Poor mother ! ” exclaimed the Marquis. “ I 
agree with you, that things are getting serious.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


21 


II. 

MoifsiEUR DE Mieaval was not mistaken in 
his surmises ; things had gone on just about as 
he had imagined. The Count Horace de Penne- 
ville had made the acquaintance of a beautiful 
blonde at Cairo, and, for the first time, his heart 
was touched. They met at the “ new hotel ” ; 
from the very first Madame Corneuil took pains 
to attract the attention and the thought of the 
young man. Monsieur Corneuil seemed to rally 
somewhat, and they profited by his improvement 
to visit together the museum at Boulak, the sub- 
terranean ruins of Serapeum, the pyramids of 
Gizeh and of Sakkarah. Horace took upon him- 
self the office of cicerone in good earnest, and 
made it both his business and pleasure to explain 
Egypt to Madame Corneuil, and Madame Corneuil 
listened to all his explanations with great serious- 
ness and interested attention, occasionally mingled 
with a mild ecstasy. She seemed rapt and intent, 
a dull flame glowed in the depths of her eyes ; 
she possessed in perfection the art of listening 
with her eyes. She found no difficulty in admit- 
ting that Moses lived in the reign of Rameses H. ; 
she seemed delighted to learn that the second dy- 
nasty lasted three hundred years ; that Menes 
was a native of Thinis ; and that the great pyra- 
mid was built gradually by Ka-kau, the Kaiechos 
of Manetho, by whom was founded the worship 


22 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


of the ox Apis, the living manifestation of the 
god Ptah. She felt all the enthusiasm of a nov- 
ice initiated in the sacred mysteries of Egyptian 
chronology, declared that it was the most delight- 
ful of all sciences and the most charming of pas- 
times, and vowed that she would learn to read 
hieroglyphics. 

The d'enoiXment took place during a visit to 
the tomb of Ti, by the reddish glare of torches. 
They were examining in a sort of ecstacy the pic- 
tures graven on the walls of each of the funereal 
chambers. One of them represented a hunter 
seated in a bark in the midst of a marsh, in which 
hippopotami and crocodiles were swimming. As 
they were bending over the crocodiles, Madame 
Corneuil, absorbed in her reverie, grew more than 
usually expansive. The young man was touched 
with a totally new sensation. She left the tomb 
first. On joining her without, he became dazzled, 
and suddenly discovered that she had the bearing 
of a queen, brown eyes shot with fawn, the most 
wonderful hair in the world, that she was beauti- 
ful as a dream, and that he was wildly in love 
with her. 

A few weeks later. Monsieur Corneuil gave up 
his soul to God, leaving his entire fortune to his 
wife, who, to speak the truth, had nursed him 
with heroic patience. The evening before her 
embarkation with a leaden coffin for Perigueux, 
Horace begged the favor of a moment’s interview 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


23 


at night under the starry skies of Egypt, in a de- 
licious atmosphere, wherein flitted the great vague 
ghosts of the Pharaohs : he then confessed to her 
his passion, and strove to make her engage herself 
to him before the year was over. Then did he 
learn still further all the delicacy of her refined 
soul. She reproached him with downcast eyes for 
the eagerness of his love, and that she could not 
think of so mingling the rose and cypress, and 
thoughts of love with long crape veils. But she 
would permit him to write to her, and promised 
to reply in six months. At parting she smiled 
upon him demurely but encouragingly. He then 
ascended the Nile again, reached Upper Egypt, 
glad to pass his months of waiting in the solitude 
of Thebais, where the days are more than twenty- 
four hours in length ; they could not be too long 
for him to decipher hieroglyphics while thinking 
of Madame Corneuil. Crocodiles will play a con- 
spicuous part in this story : Horace was at Keri, 
or Crocodilopolis, when he received an exquisitely 
written and perfumed note, telling him that the 
adored being was passing the summer with her 
mother on the borders of Lake Leman, at an 
apartment-house a short distance from Lausanne, 
and that, if the Count de Penneville should pre- 
sent himself, he need not knock twice for the door 
to open. He left like an arrow, and ran with one 
stretch of the bow to Lausanne. He had written 
a letter of twelve pages to Madame de Penneville, 


24 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


in which he told to her his good fortune with such 
effusion of tenderness and of joy as might well 
have made her despair. 

Both uncle and niece spent all their evening 
in talking, deliberating, and discussing, as gener- 
ally happens in like cases. The same things were 
repeated twenty times ; it helps nothing, but is a 
great comfort. Monsieur de Miraval, who seldom 
took things tragically, set himself to console the 
Countess ; but she was inconsolable. 

“ How, in good faith,” said she, could you 
expect me to coolly contemplate the prospect of 
having for a daughter-in-law a girl sprung from 
no one knows where ; the daughter of a man of 
ruined reputation, who married an insignificant 
man, and separated from him that she might have 
her own way in Paris ; a woman whose name has 
been dragged through the ‘ Gazette des Tribu- 
naux ’ ; a woman who writes descriptions of mists, 
who composes sonnets, and who, I know, is none 
too scrupulous ? ” 

I do not know about that,” answered the Mar- 
quis, ‘‘ but it has been said for a long time that the 
most dangerous creatures in the world are the wo- 
men ^ d sonnets^ and the serpents ‘ d sonnettes.'^ 
I will wager, however, that this woman is a man- 
oeuvrer, and that it is a very disagreeable business.’’ 

‘‘ Horace, wretched Plorace ! ” exclaimed the 
Countess, “ what grief you cause me ! — The dear 
fellow has a most noble and generous heart ; un- 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


25 


fortunately, he never had a hit of common sense ; 
but how could I expect this ? ” 

“ Alas ! you had every reason to expect just 
this,” interrupted the Marquis. “ One can not 
mistrust too much such precocious wisdom ; it 
always ends in some calamity. I have told you 
a hundred times, my dear Mathilde, that your son 
gave me considerable uneasiness, and that some 
unfortunate surprise was preparing for us. We 
are all born with a certain amount of nonsense 
in us, which we must get rid of ; happy are those 
who exhaust it in youth ! Horace kept it all till 
he was twenty-eight years old, capital and inter- 
est, and this is the result of all his economy. 
Many little follies save from greater ones ; when 
a man only commits one, it is almost always enor- 
mous, and generally irreparable.” 

Madame de Penneville passed to the Marquis 
a cup of tea, sweetened by her white hand, and 
said to him in most caressing tones : 

“My dear uncle, you alone can save us.” 

“ In what way ? ” asked he. 

“ Horace has so much regard, so much respect 
for you. You have always had so much authority 
with him.” 

“ Bah ! we no longer live under the regime of 
authority.” 

“ But, then, you have always allowed him to 
look upon himself as your heir ; that gives you a 
certain right, it seems to me.” 


26 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ Come ! Young men who live in space, like 
your son, can easily give up an inheritance. 
What is an income of a hundred thousand francs 
compared with a pretty scaraboeus, emblem of 
immortality ? ” 

‘‘My dear, dear uncle, I am persuaded that, 
if you would consent to go to Lausanne — ” 

The Marquis jumped from his seat. “ Good 
Heavens ! ” said he. “ Lausanne is very far.” 

And he heaved a sigh, as his thoughts turned 
to the terrace at his club. 

“ Only accept this task, and I will be eternal- 
ly grateful. You can make the boy listen to 
reason.” 

“My dear Mathilde, once in a while I read 
over my Latin poets. I know one of them says 
that madness is allied to love, and that to talk 
reason to a lover is as absurd as to ask him to 
rave with moderation, cum ratione insa- 
niaV ” 

“ Horace has a heart. You must represent to 
him that this marriage will drive me to despair.” 

“He suspects as much, my dear, since he did 
not dare to come and greet you on his arrival 
from Egypt, and you may be sure he will not 
come until you give your consent. A man loves 
and respects his mother in vain when he is really 
on fire, and Horace is that surely. Heavens ! his 
letter proves it. So feverish is the prose that it 
almost bums the paper.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


27 


Madame de Penneville drew near tlie Mar- 
quis, tenderly stroking his white hair, and put- 
ting her arms about his neck : 

‘‘You are so shrewd : you have so much tact. 
I have been told that very difficult missions were 
intrusted to you in the past, and that you acquit- 
ted yourself gloriously.” 

“ O thou cunning one, it is far easier to nego- 
tiate with a government than to treat with a 
lover in the toils of a manoeuvrer.” 

“You can never make me believe that any- 
thing is impossible to you.” 

“You have resolved to bring me into the 
game,” said he to her. “Well, so be it ; the en- 
terprise deserves to he attempted. But, d propos, 
have you replied yet to the formidable letter 
which you have just read to me ? ” 

“I would do nothing without consulting 
you.” 

“ So much the better ; nothing is compromised ; 
the affair is as yet unmeddled with. I’ will let 
you know to-morrow if I decide to go to Lau- 
sanne.” 

The Countess thanked Monsieur de Miraval 
warmly. She thanked him still more warmly the 
next day when he announced to her that he would 
do as she wished, and asked her to take him to 
the station. She accompanied him, for fear he 
might repent, and on the way said to him : 

“This is a journey for all mothers to glory 


28 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


over ; but, would you be kind enough to write 
me often from there ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly,” answered he, “ but only upon 
one condition.” 

“ What may that be ? ” 

That you do not believe one single word 
that I write to you.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“I also request of you,” continued he, ‘‘that 
you answer me as if you really did believe me, 
and that you send my letters to Horace, begging 
him to keep them to himself.” 

“ I understand you less and less.” 

“ What can that be which is beyond the com- 
prehension of a woman ? Open letters are the 
depths of diplomacy. After all, it is not neces- 
sary that you should understand ; the essential 
thing is that you obey my instructions scrupu- 
lously. Good-by, my dear ; I am going to where 
Heaven and your purrings have sent me. If I 
do not succeed, it will prove that our friends the 
Republicans were quite right in shelving me.” 

Having thus spoken, he kissed his niece, and 
stepped into the railway-carriage. He reached 
Lausanne twenty -four hours later. The first 
thing which he did after engaging a room at the 
H6tel Gibbon was to supply himself with a com- 
plete fishing-outfit. After that, tired with his 
journey, he slept six hours. After waking, he 
dined ; after dining, he took a carriage for the 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


29 


apartment-house Vallaud, situated at twenty min- 
utes’ distance from Lausanne, upon the brow of 
one of , the most beautiful hills in the world. This 
charming villa, since changed into an hotel, con- 
sisted of a country-house in which the Count de 
Penneville had an apartment, and a lovely de- 
tached chalet which was occupied by Madame 
Corneuil and her mother. The chalet and the 
house were separated, or, if it sounds better, 
united by a large park well shaded, which Hor- 
ace crossed many times a day, saying to himself, 
“When shall we live under the same roof?” 
But one must learn how to wait for happiness. 

At that very moment Horace was working, 
pen in hand, at his great “ History of the Hyk- 
sos, or the Shepherd Kings, or of the Unclean ” 
— that is to say, of those terrible Canaanitish 
hordes who, two thousand years before the Chris- 
tian era, disturbed in their camps by the Elamite 
invasions of the Kings Chodornakhounta and 
Chodormabog, swept in their turn over the val- 
ley of the Nile, set it on fire, and drenched it in 
blood, and for more than five centuries occupied 
both the center and the north of Egypt. Full of 
learning, and rich in fresh documents collected 
by him with very great pains, he undertook to 
show on unquestionable testimony that the Pha- 
raoh under whom Joseph became minister was 
indeed Apophis or Apepi, King of the Hyksos, 
and he flattered himself that he could prove it so 


30 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


strongly that henceforth it would be impossible 
for the most critical minds to contradict it. A 
few months previously he had sent from Cairo to 
Paris the first chapters of his history, which were 
read at the Institute. His thesis shocked one 
or two Egyptologists, others thought there was 
some good in it, while one of them wrote him 
thus : “Your debut is promising. Made aminOy 
generose puer.^'* 

Wrapped in a sort of burnous of white wool- 
en stuff, his neck bare, and his hair disordered, 
he was leaning over a round table, before a writ- 
ing-desk surmounted by a sphinx. His face wore 
the expression of a contented heart and a per- 
fectly serene conscience. On the table a beautiful 
purple rose, almost black, opened its petals ; he 
had put it into a glass, into which a statuette of 
blue fdiencey representing an Egyptian goddess 
with a cat’s face, plunged her impertinent nose 
without bending into the water. Horace seemed 
by turns contemplating this very nose and also 
the flower which Madame Corneuil had gathered 
for him less than an hour before ; at times also, 
turning his eye toward the large open window, 
he saw that the moon, at its fullness, trailed along 
the shimmering waters of the lake a long row of 
silver spangles. But, by a fortunate condition of 
things, he was also wholly absorbed in his work ; 
he was not in the least distracted from it ; he 
belonged to the Hyksos. The moon, the rose. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


31 


Madame Corneuil, the cat-headed divinity, the 
sphinx on the escritoire^ the Unclean, and the 
King Apepi — were all blended together and be- 
come one to his inmost thoughts. The blessed 
in paradise see all in God, and can thus think of 
all things without losing for one moment their 
great idea, which is infinite. The Count Horace 
was at the same moment at Lausanne in the 
neighborhood of the woman whose image was 
never out of his mind, and in Egypt two thou- 
sand years before Christ, and his happiness was 
as complete as his application to his studies. 

He had just finished this phrase : ‘‘ Consider 
the sculptures of the period of the Shepherd 
kings ; examine carefully and impartially their 
angular faces, with their prominent cheek-bones ; 
and, if you are fair, you will agree that the race 
to which the Hyksos belong could not have been 
purely Semitic, but must have been strongly 
mixed with the Turanian element.” 

Satisfied with this ending, he stopped his 
work for a second, laid down his pen, and, draw- 
ing the purple rose nearer to him, pressed it to 
his lips. Hearing a knock at the door, he quick- 
ly returned the rose to its vase, and in a tone 
of vexation exclaimed, “ Come in ! ” The door 
opened. Monsieur de Miraval entered. Horace’s 
face grew dark ; the unexpected apparition dis- 
mayed him ; he felt as if he had been sudden- 
ly shut out of his paradise. Alas ! the happiest 


32 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


life of all is nothing but an intermittent para- 
dise ! 

The Marquis, immovable on the threshold, 
bowed soberly to his nephew, saying to him : 

“Ah ! indeed, do I disturb you? You never 
knew how to conceal your feelings.” 

“ My dear uncle,” answered he, “ how can you 
think such a thing? I was not expecting you, 
that I must confess. But pray, how did you hap- 
pen here ? ” 

“ I am traveling in Switzerland. Could I 
pass through Lausanne without coming to see 
you ? ” 

“ Own up, uncle, that you were not passing 
through,” answered Horace ; “ own that you are 
more than a passer-by — that you came here on 
purpose.” 

“You are right, I did come on purpose, my 
boy,” answered Monsieur de Miraval. 

“Then I have the honor of having an am- 
bassador to deal with ? ” 

“ Yes, an ambassador, most strict in etiquette, 
who insists upon being received with all the re- 
spect due to him, and according to the rules con- 
cerning the rights of men in his position.” 

Horace had recovered from his trouble ; he 
had recourse to philosophy, and put a good face 
on a bad business. Offering a chair to the Mar- 
quis, he said : 

“ Be seated, my lord ambassador, in the very 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


33 


best of my easy-cbairs. But, to begin with, let 
us embrace one another, my dear uncle. If I 
am not mistaken, it is full two years since we 
have had the pleasure of seeing one another. 
What can I offer to entertain you ? I think 
I remember that champagne frapp^ used to 
be your favorite drink. Do not think you are 
in a barbarous country ; one can find any- 
thing one wishes ; you shall be satisfied at 
once.” 

At these words he pulled a bell-rope, and a 
domestic appeared. He gave him his orders, 
which were immediately carried out, although 
slowly. Nevertheless, Monsieur de Miraval 
looked at his nephew with a satisfaction mingled 
with secret vexation. It seemed to him that the 
handsome fellow had grown still handsomer. His 
short beard was beautifully black ; his features, 
formerly rather weak, had gained strength, firm- 
ness, and emphasis ; his grayish-blue eyes had 
grown larger, his complexion was sunburned and 
browned to a tint which became him greatly ; 
his smile, full of sweetness and mystery, was 
charming — it was like that undefinable smile 
which the Egyptian sculptors, whose genius 
Greece could hardly surpass, carved upon the lips 
of their statues. The sphinxes in the Louvre 
would have recognized Horace from his family 
resemblance, and have claimed him as a relation. 
It is easy to get the complexion of the country 
3 


34 


A STOOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


where one is living, and a face grows often to re- 
semble the thing one most loves. 

“ Fool of fools ! ” thought the Marquis angri- 
ly 5 “ yo^ have the proudest bearing, the finest 
head in the world, and you do not know how to 
put them to a better use. Ah ! if at your age I 
had had such eyes and such a smile, what would 
I not have done with them ! No woman could 
have resisted me ; but you — what can you say 
for yourself when Providence calls you to account 
for all the gifts he has bestowed upon you ? You 
will have to say, ‘I profited by them to marry 
Madame Corneuil.’ Ah ! ‘ you fool ! ’ will be the 
answer, ‘ you foolishly ended where others began.’ ” 

Horace was miles away from guessing the se- 
cret thoughts of Monsieur de Miraval. After his 
disagreeable emotion of the first meeting was over, 
his natural feeling returned, which was that of 
pleasure at again seeing his uncle, for he loved 
him well. In truth, it was as an ambassador that 
he displeased him, but he resolved not to spare 
him, for, when the will is fixed, objections are less 
apt to be dreaded, for one knows beforehand how 
they may all be answered. So he awaited the ad- 
vance of the enemy with firm step, and, as the 
enemy was drinking champagne, and evidently in 
no hurry to commence hostilities, he marched up 
to meet him. 

“ First, dear uncle,” said he to him, ‘‘ give me 
quickly whatever news you can of my mother.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


35 


“ I wish I had something good to tell you 
about her,” answered the Marquis. “But you 
know we are anxious about her health, and you 
must be aware that the letter which she received 
from you — ” 

“ Did my letter trouble her ? ” 

“ Could you doubt it ? ” 

“ I love my mother dearly,” answered Horace 
quickly, “ but I have always considered her to be 
a most reasonable woman. Evidently I did not 
go to work rightly ; I will write to her to-mor- 
row, and try to reconcile her to my happiness.” 

• “If you think as I do, you will not write 
again ; one evil never undoes another. Your 
mother assuredly wishes you to be happy, but 
the extravagant proposition which you confided 
to her — does the word ‘ extravagant ’ hurt you ? 
I withdraw it ; I meant to say the somewhat sin- 
gular — well, I withdraw the word ‘ singular ’ also. 
But it is often used in that sense in the Chamber 
of Deputies, and you must not hold yourself 
higher than a deputy. In short, this proposition, 
which is neither extravagant nor singular, dis- 
turbs your mother greatly, and you will not be 
able to overcome her objections to it.” 

“ Has she authorized you to make them known 
to me ? ” 

“ Must I, then, present my credentials ? ” 

“ This is all unnecessary, uncle. Say frankly 
whatever you please — or rather, if you are forti- 


36 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


fied by good arguments, say nothing at all, for I 
warn you that you will spend all your eloquence 
for naught, and I know you never care to waste 
your words.” 

‘‘ But you may as well resign yourself to lis- 
ten to me. You can not suppose that I have come 
a hundred leagues at full gallop for nothing. My 
speech is ready, and you must submit to it.” 

“ Till morning dawns, if needs be,” answered 
Horace ; the night shall be devoted to you.” 

Thanks. And now let us begin at the be- 
ginning. That which has just taken place has 
not only grieved me much, but cruelly humiliated 
me. I flattered myself that I understood human 
nature somewhat, and was quite proud of my 
knowledge. Now, I must confess, to my own 
confusion, that I am entirely mistaken in you. 
What, my son ! can it be that you — whom I con- 
sidered the most sensible, serious, sober fellow in 
the world — can think of thus suddenly casting 
dismay into the bosom of your family by a de- 
termination — ” 

“ Extravagant and singular,” interrupted Hor- 
ace. 

‘‘ I said I would withdraw both of those 
words ; but, I ask you, does not this project of 
marriage seem a headstrong thing ? ” 

‘‘ Must I answer you proposition by proposi- 
tion ? ” exclaimed he, ‘‘ or would you rather give 
me your whole speech in one breath ? ” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


37 


‘‘ No, that would tire me too much. Answer 
as I go along.” 

“Well, dear uncle, let me tell you that you 
are not at all mistaken in your ideas of me, and 
that this headstrong act is the most sensible and 
prudent thing with which my good genius ever 
inspired me — an act which both my heart and 
reason approve.” 

“Then you forbid my surprise that the heir 
of a good name and large fortune, that a Count 
de Penneville, who could choose in his own rank, 
among fifty young girls really worthy of him, re- 
fuses every one whom his mother proposes, and 
suddenly changes his mind to marry — whom ? A 
— madame — Horace, what is her name ? I never 
can remember her nothing of a name.” 

“ Her name is Madame Corneuil, at your ser- 
vice,” answered Horace in a piqued tone. “I 
am sorry if her name displeases you, but spare 
yourself the trouble of fixing it in your memory. 
In two months from now you can call her the 
Countess Hortense de Penneville.” 

“ The deuce ! how fast you go ! But that is 
not yet the case.” 

“We have exchanged words, uncle. You may 
as well consider it so, for I defy you to undo it.” 

Monsieur de Miraval filled and emptied his 
glass anew, then began again : 

“ Do not get excited, or lose your temper. I 
would not offend you for anything, but I am so 


38 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


astonished, so surprised. Tell me, what is that 
statuette in blue faience, with a halo round about 
her head, with such a slend,er figure and the face 
of a cat, holding a queer sort of a guitar in her 
right hand ? ” 

“ That is no guitar, uncle ; it is a timbrel, a 
symbol of the harmony of the universe. Do you 
not recognize the statuette to be that of the god- 
dess Sekhet, the Bubastis of Greek authors, whom 
they call the great lover of Ptah, a divinity by 
turn beneficent and revengeful, who, according to 
all appearances, represents the solar radiation in 
its twofold office ? ” 

I beg a thousand pardons, I believe I do re- 
member her, and that rose which she seems to 
smell of somewhat suspiciously — ah ! I think I 
need not ask whence that rose comes.” 

“Well, yes ! it was given me by the woman 
whose name you can not possibly remember.” 

“ But, permit me — I do know the name quite 
well — Madame Corneuil — is it not Corneuil ? My 
gentle friend, does it not seem to you that the 
goddess Sekhet or Bubastis, who represents the 
solar radiation, fastens her angry glances blazing 
with indignation upon that purple rose, and curses 
the rival whom you insolently prefer to her? 
Take care — roses fade ; both roses and givers of 
them only live for a day, while the goddesses are 
immortal and their anger also.” 

“ Reassure yourself, uncle,” answered Horace 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


39 


with a smile. “ The goddess Sekhet looks with 
gentle eyes upon that flower. If you should ask 
her, she would say : ‘ The fifty heiresses which 
you have proposed for the Count de Penneville 
are all or nearly all but foolish creatures, with 
narrow and frivolous minds, caring only for gew- 
gaws and trifles ; therefore I approve him decid- 
edly for having disdained these dolls, and for 
wishing to marry a woman whom there are few 
like, whose intelligence is as remarkable as her 
heart is loving ; a woman who adores Egypt and 
who longs to return thither ; a woman who will 
not only be the sweetest companion to your 
nephew, but who will also be passionately inter- 
ested in his labors, who will aid him by her 
counsel, and be the confidante of all his 
thoughts.’ ” 

“ And who will deserve to become a member 
of the Institute like him,” interrupted Monsieur 
de Miraval. ‘‘ How charming it will be to see 
you enter it arm-in-arm ! Horace, I will give up 
reciting the end of my speech to you. Only per- 
mit me to ask you a question or two. Where 
did this incomprehensible accident take place ? 
Oh ! I remember — your mother told me that it 
was in a grotto at Memphis.” 

‘‘ My mother was not very prudent,” answered 
Horace ; “ but let that go ! It was in the depths 
of a grotto. We call it a hypogeum.” 

“ Confound the hypogeum ! My ideas are 


40 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


getting confused. I remember it was in the 
tomb of the King Ti.” 

Ti was not a king, uncle,” answered Horace 
in a tone of mild indulgence. “ Ti was one of 
the great feudal lords, one of the barons of some 
ruler of the fourth dynasty, which held sway for 
two hundred and eighty-four years, or perhaps of 
the fifth, which was also Memphite.” 

‘‘ Heaven keep me from denying it ! So you 
were in the tomb ? Inspired by love, Madame 
Corneuil deciphered fluently a hieroglyphic' in- 
scription, and, touched by the beautiful miracle, 
you fell at her feet.” 

‘‘Such miracles do not come to pass, uncle. 
Madame Corneuil does not yet know how to read 
hieroglyphics, but she will read them some day.” 

“And is that why you love her, unhappy 
youth ? ” 

“ I love her,” exclaimed Horace ardently, 
“because she is wonderfully beautiful, because 
she is adorable, because she has every grace, and 
beside her every other woman seems ugly. Yes, 
I love her — I have given her my heart and my 
life for ever ! So much the worse for those who 
do not understand me.” 

“ So it may be,” answered the uncle ; “ but 
your mother has made inquiries, and evil tongues 
say that — ” 

“ Enough ! ” replied Horace, raising his voice. 
“ If any one else but you ventured to hint in that 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


41 


manner of a woman for whom my respect equals 
my love, of a woman worthy the regard of every 
• one, he should either have my life or I his ! ” 

“You know that I could not have the slightest 
desire to fight with my only heir — what would 
become of the property ? Since you say so, I will 
be convinced that Madame Corneuil is a person 
absolutely above reproach. But where the deuce 
did your mother pick up her information ? She 
says plainly that she is an ambitious manoeuvrer, 
and that her dream is — are you really sure that 
this woman is not one of the cunning ones ? 
Are you very sure that she is sincerely, passionate- 
ly interested in the exploits of the Pharaohs, and 
in the god Anubis, guide of souls ? Are you sure 
that sometimes the greatest effects are produced 
with slight effort, and that down in the grotto of 
Ti she might not have been acting a little farce, 
to which an Egyptologist of my acquaintance has 
fallen an easy dupe ? For my own part, I believe 
that if this same handsome fellow had a crooked 
nose, and dull, squinting eyes, Madame Corneuil 
would like him just as well, for the excellent rea- 
son that Madame Corneuil has got it into her head 
that some day she will be called the ‘ Countess de 
Penneville.’ ” 

“ Really, you excite my pity, uncle, and it is 
very good in me to answer you. To ascribe such 
miserable calculation, self-interest, and vanity to 
the proudest, noblest, and purest of souls ! You 


42 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


ought to blush that you can so lower yourself. 
She has told me the story of her life, day by day, 
hour by hour. God knows she has nothing to 
conceal ! Poor saint, married very young and 
against her will, through the tyranny of her fa- 
ther, to a man who was not worthy to touch the 
hem of her garment with the tip of his finger — 
and yet she forgave him all. If you only knew 
how tenderly she took care of him in his last mo- 
ments ! ” 

But it seems to me, my young friend, that 
she was well rewarded for her trouble, since he 
left her his fortune.” 

“ And to whom should he have left it ? Had 
he not everything to make amends for ? No, 
never did woman suffer more or was more worthy 
of happiness. One thing only helped her to bear 
her heavy weight of grief. She was strongly 
convinced that some day she might meet a man 
capable of understanding her — whose soul might 
be on a level with her own. ‘ Yes,’ she said to 
me the other evening, ‘ I had faith in him. I was 
sure of his existence, and the first time I saw you 
it seemed as if I recognized you, and I said to 
myself, ‘‘May it not be he ? ” ’ Yes, uncle, she 
and I are one and the same, and it will be the 
greatest honor of my life. She loves me, I tell 
you, she loves me — you can not change any- 
thing ; so we might as well end here, if you are 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


43 


The Marquis passed his hands twice through 
his white hair, and exclaimed : 

“I declare, Horace, you are the frankest of 
innocents, the most name of lovers.” 

I assure you, uncle, that you are the most 
obstinate and incurable of unbelievers.” 

Horace, I call this sphinx and the nose of the 
goddess Sekhet to witness that poetry is the mal- 
ady of those who know nothing of life.” 

‘‘ And I, uncle, I call to witness the moon yon- 
der, and this purple rose, which looks' at you and 
laughs, that skepticism is the punishment of those 
who may have abused their life.” 

‘‘ And I — I swear to you by that which is most 
sacred, by the great Sesostris himself — ” 

“ O uncle, what a blunder ! I know that you 
should not be blamed for it, for you have hardly 
studied the history of Egypt, and it is no business 
of yours, but know that there has never been so 
exaggerated and even usurped reputation as that 
of the man whom you call the great Sesostris, 
and whose name really was Rameses II. Swear, 
if you choose, by the King Cheops, conqueror of 
the Bedouins ; swear by Menes, who built Mem- 
phis ; swear by Amenophis HI., called Memmon ; 
or, if you like it better, by Snefrou, last king but 
one of the third dynasty, who subdued the no- 
madic tribes of Arabia Petraea ; but know that 
your great Sesostris was at bottom a very medi- 
ocre man, of very slight merit, who carried his 


44 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


vanity so far as to have the names of the sover- 
eigns who preceded him erased from the monu- 
ments and substituted his own, which had weight 
with superficial minds, Diodorus Siculus particu- 
larly, and introduced thereby the most unfortunate 
mistakes in history. Your Sesostris, good Heav- 
ens ! he has only lived upon one exploit of his 
youth. Either through address or through luck, 
he managed to get through an ambuscade with 
life and baggage unharmed. That was the great 
achievement which he had engraved hundreds and 
hundreds of times on the walls of all the buildings 
erected during his reign ; that was his eternal 
Valmy, his everlasting Jemappes. I ask you 
what were his conquests ? He managed to cap- 
ture negroes because he wanted masons, he hunted 
down men in Soudan, and his only claim to glory 
was in having had one hundred and seventy chil- 
dren, of whom sixty-nine were sons.” 

“ Goodness ! that is no small thing ; but, after 
all, what conclusion do you reach from that ? ” 

“ I conclude,” answered Horace, who had lost 
sight of the principal topic in this digression — 
‘‘ I conclude that Sesostris — no,” replied he, “ I 
conclude that I adore Madame Corneuil, and that 
before three months she shall be my wife.” 

The Marquis rose hastily, exclaiming, ‘‘ Hor- 
ace, my heir and my great-nephew, come to my 
arms ! ” 

And as Horace, immovable, looked at him 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


45 


astonished — ‘‘ Must I say it again ? Come to my 
arms,” continued he. “ I am pleased with you. 
Your passion really makes me young once more. 
I admire youth, love, and frankness. I thought 
you only had a fancy for this woman, a whim, but 
I see your heart is touched, and one can do no 
better than to listen to the voice of the heart. 
Forgive my foolish questions and my impertinent 
objections. What I said was to acquit my con- 
science. Your mother gave me my lesson, and I 
repeated it like a parrot. We must not get angry 
with these poor mothers ; their scruples are al- 
ways to be respected.” 

Ah, there you touch a tender and sore point,” 
interrupted the young man, “ but I know how to 
bring her back — I will write her to-morrow.” 

“ Let me say one word more — do not wite ; 
your prose has not the power of pleasing her. 
She has great confidence in me ; my words will 
have weight. My son, I am all ready to go over 
to the enemy if this lovely woman who lives near 
you is really what you say. I will be your advo- 
cate with your mother, and we will make her lis- 
ten to reason. Will you introduce me to Madame 
Corneuil ? ” 

Are you really sincere, uncle ? ” asked Hor- 
ace, looking at him with mistrust and defiance. 

Can I depend upon your loyalty ? ” 

‘‘ Upon the faith of an uncle and a gentleman ! ” 
interrupted the Marquis in his turh. 


46 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


‘‘If that be so, we can embrace this time in 
good earnest,” answered Horace, taking the hand 
held out to him. 

The uncle and nephew staid talking together 
for some time longer, like good friends. It was 
near midnight when Monsieur de Miraval remem- 
bered that his carriage was in waiting for him in 
the road to take him back to his hotel. He rose 
and said to Horace : 

“It is settled, then, that you will introduce 
me to-morrow ? ” 

“Yes, uncle, at two o’clock precisely.” 

“ Is that the hour when you see her ? ” 

“ One of my hours. I never work between 
breakfast and dinner.” 

“ So everything is ruled to order, like music- 
paper, You are right ; there must be method in 
all things. Even in love everything must be done 
by weight, number, and measure. I knew a phi- 
losopher once who said that measure was the best 
definition of God. But, by the way, I took a nap 
this afternoon, and am not in the least sleepy. 
Lend me a book for company after I go to bed. 
You, doubtless, own the writings of Madame- 
Corneuil ? ” 

“ Could you doubt that ? ” 

“ Don’t give me her novel ; I have already 
read that.” 

“ It Is a real masterpiece,” said Horace. 

“ There is rather too much fog in it to suit my 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


47 


taste. There is a rumor that she has published 
sonnets.” 

‘‘ They are real gems,” exclaimed he. 

“ And an essay on the apostleship of woman.” 

“ A wonderful book ! ” exclaimed he again. 

Lend me the essay and the sonnets. I will 
read them to-night, that I may be prepared for 
to-morrow’s interview.” 

Horace began at once to search for the two 
volumes, which he found with great difficulty. 
By means of rummaging, he discovered them at 
last under a great pile of quartos, which were 
crushing them with their terrible weight. He 
said to his uncle as he gave them to him : 

“ Keep them as the apple of your eye. For 
she gave them to me.” 

“ Give yourself no uneasiness ; I appreciate 
the preciousness of the treasure,” answered the 
Marquis. 

In the same breath he observed that the trea- 
tise was only half cut, and that the volume of 
sonnets was not cut at all, which gave rise to cer- 
tain reflections of his own ; but he carefully kept 
them to himself. 

III. 

This world is full of mysterious events, and 
Hamlet was right in saying that there were more 
things in heaven and earth than were dreamed of 
in Horatio’s philosophy. 


48 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


It has been observed that during the time of 
great wars, when different peoples coming from 
all parts of a great empire find themselves sud- 
denly brought together in an army to serve a 
campaign, strange contagions and fatal epidemics 
spring up among them, and a great thinker has 
dared to attribute the cause of it* to the forced 
propinquity of men totally unlike in disposition, 
in language, and in intellect, who, not having 
been made to live together, are brought in con- 
tact by an evil caprice of destiny. It has also 
been remarked that, when the crew of the ship 
which annually brings the necessary provisions 
for their subsistence to the poor inhabitants of 
the Shetland Isles land on their shores, they are 
seized with a spasmodic cough, and do not cease 
coughing until the ship has again set sail. It is 
also said that at the approach of a strange vessel 
the natives of the Faroe Isles are attacked by a 
catarrhal fever, which it is very difficult to get 
rid of. Finally, it is stated that sometimes the 
arrival of a single missionary at one of the South- 
Sea islands is enough to bring on a dangerous epi- 
demic, to decimate the wretched savages. 

This may perhaps explain why, during the 
night of August 13, 1878, the beautiful Madame 
Corneuil was greatly disturbed in her sleep, and 
why on waking the next morning she felt as if 
her whole body had been bruised. It was not 
the plague, it was no cholera, no catarrhal fever, 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


49 


no spasmodic cough, but she felt a certain tight- 
ness about the head, a disturbance, and a very- 
peculiar nervous irritation : and she had a pre- 
sentiment that there was danger near, or that an 
enemy had just landed. Yet she did not know 
about the Marquis de Miraval, had never even 
heard of him ; she little knew that he was more 
dangerous than any missionary who ever landed 
on the islands of the Pacific. 

As her mother, who was always the first to 
enter her chamber to lavish upon her those atten- 
tions which she alone knew how to make agreea- 
ble, drew near the bed on tiptoe and wished her 
good morning, Madame Corneuil, out of humor, 
gave her a rather cool greeting. Madame V4- 
retz readily perceived that her adored angel was 
out of sorts. This indulgent mother was some- 
what accustomed to her whim. She was made for 
it, and did not mind. Her daughter was her 
queen, her divinity, her all ; she devoted herself 
entirely to her happiness and her glory ; she actu- 
ally worshiped her with real adoration. She be- 
longed to that race of mothers who are servants 
and martyrs ; but her servitude pleased her, her 
martyrdom was sweet to her, and the thin little 
woman, with her quick eye, her serpentine gait, 
who, like Cato the Censor, whom she resembled 
in nothing else, had greenish eyes and red hair, 
always looked pleasantly upon the hardships she 
had to bear. 


50 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


She had her own consolations. She might be 
snubbed, scolded, and sent off, but it always end- 
ed by her being listened to, especially if it was to 
be of any benefit. It was at her advice that at 
the propitious moment they quarreled with Mon- 
sieur Corneuil, and afterward were reconciled to 
him. Thanks to her valuable suggestions, they 
had been able to hold a salon in Paris, and to be- 
come of some importance there. Madame Cor- 
neuil reigned, while really it was Madame V4retz 
who governed, and it must be said she never had 
any other end in view but the good fortune of her 
dear idol. We all have confused ideas of our 
own which we can hardly unravel, and hidden de- 
sires which we dare not confess to ourselves. Ma- 
dame Veretz had the gift of comprehending her 
daughter, and reading the inmost recesses of her 
heart. She undertook to unravel her confused 
ideas, and to reveal to her her unacknowledged 
wishes, and took charge of them. That was the 
secret of her influence, which was considerable. 
When Madame Corneuil’s imagination wandered, 
her incomparable mother started out as her cou- 
rier. On reaching the station, the fair traveler 
found her relays of horses all ready, and she was 
under, great obligations to her mother for arrang- 
ing many an agreeable surprise for her. She 
would have taken great care not to embark in 
any scheme without her courier, to whom she was 
obliged for never allowing her to rest by the way. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


51 


After having sent off her mother, and spent 
half an hour with her maid, Madame Corneuil 
took a cup of tea, then seated herself at her sec- 
retary. She spent her mornings in writing a 
book, which was to form a sequel to her treatise 
upon the “ Apostleship,” to be called “ The Po- 
sition of Woman in Modern Society.’’ To speak 
plainly, she was merely making the same ideas 
serve her a second time. Her aim was to show 
that in democratic society, committed to the wor- 
ship of the greatest number, the only corrective 
to coarseness of manners, thought, and interest, 
would be the sovereignty of woman. ‘‘Kings 
are dying out,” she wrote the night before, in a 
moment of inspiration — “ let them go ; but we 
must not let them bear away with them that true 
kingliness whose benefits are necessary even to 
republics. Let women sit on the thrones which 
they leave empty. With them will reign virtue, 
genius, sublime aspirations, delicacy of heart, dis- 
interested sentiments, noble devotion, and noble 
scorn.” I may have spoiled her phrases, but I 
think I have given the gist of them all. I think, 
also, that, in the portrait she drew, the superior 
woman whom she proposed for the worship of 
human kind resembled astonishingly Madame Cor- 
neuil, and she could not think of herself without 
her splendid hair of golden blonde twisted around 
her brow like a diadem. 

After a bad night one does not feel like writ- 


52 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


ing. That day Madame Corneuil was not in the 
mood. The pen felt heavy to the pretty hand, 
with its polished nails ; both ideas and expression 
failed her. In vain she twisted a loose curl over 
her forefinger, in vain did she look at her rosy 
finger-tips — nothing came of it ; she began to 
fancy that a shadow of coming misfortune fell 
between her and the paper. Heaven knows that 
in like cases every pains was taken to save her 
nerves, to cause her no interruption, such were 
the orders. During those hours when she was 
known to be within her sanctum, the most pro- 
found silence reigned everywhere. Madame V4- 
retz saw to that. Every one spoke in a whisper 
and stepped softly ; and when Jacquot, who did 
the errands, crossed the paved courtyard, he took 
great care to take oif his sabots, lest he might be 
heard. This precaution on his part was the result 
of sad experience. Jacquot played the horn in 
his leisure moments. One morning when he took 
the liberty of playing, Madame Y4retz, coming 
upon him unawares, gave him a vigorous box on 
the ear, saying to him: “Keep still, you little 
idiot ! don’t you know that she is meditating ? ” 
Jacquot rubbed his cheek, and took it as it was 
said. Everybody did the same. So from eight 
till noon Jacquot whispered to the cook, and the 
cook told the coachman, and the coachman told 
the hens in the yard, who repeated it to the spar- 
rows, who repeated it to the swallows, and to all 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


53 


the winds of heaven, “ Brothers, let us keep si- 
lence — she is meditating ! ” 

When it struck noon, the^ door of the holy 
place opened softly, and, as before, Madame 
V4retz advanced on the tips of her toes, asking, 
“ My dear beauty, may I be allowed to enter ? ” 
Madame Corneuil scowled with her beautiful 
eyebrows, and poutingly placed her papers in the 
most elegant portfolio, and her portfolio in the 
depths of her rosewood secretary, taking care to 
take out the key, for fear of robbers. 

Orders must have been given,” said she, not 
to leave me a moment in peace.” 

‘‘ I was obliged to go out this morning,” an- 
swered Madame Veretz ; “ did Jacquot happen to 
take advantage of my absence ? ” 

‘‘Jacquot, or some one else, I do not know 
who ; but they made a great deal of noise, and 
moved about the furniture. Was it absolutely 
necessary for you to go out ? ” 

“ Absolutely. You complained yesterday that 
the fish was not fresh, and that Julia did not un- 
derstand buying ; so henceforth I shall do my 
own marketing.” 

“ And during that time, then, there must be a 
fearful racket.” 

“ What can you do ? Between two evils — ” 
“No,” interrupted Madame Corneuil, “I do 
not wish you to go yourself and bargain for fish ; 
why do you not teach Julia how to select it ? 


54 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


You do not know how to order others, and so it 
ends in your doing everything yourself.” 

‘‘ I will learn, I will try to improve, my dar- 
ling,” answered Madame V4retz, kissing her fore- 
head tenderly. 

She did not add that she liked to go to mar- 
ket, which was the truth. Among people who rise 
from small beginnings, some resent their past, and 
strive to forget it, while it pleases others to recall it. 

‘‘ What have you there ? ” exclaimed Madame 
Corneuil, seeing just then that her mother held a 
bit of writing in her hand. 

“ This, my dear, is a note in which Monsieur 
de Penneville begs me to inform you that his 
great-uncle, the Marquis de Miraval, arrived yes- 
terday from Paris, and has expressed a desire to 
be introduced, and that he will bring him here at 
two o’clock exactly. You know he is a victim to 
the stroke of the clock.” 

“ What prevented him from coming to tell us 
himself ? ” 

‘‘Apparently he feared disturbing you, and 
perhaps he did not care to disarrange his own 
plans. In all well-ordered lives the first rule is to 
work until noon.” 

Madame Corneuil grew impatient. 

“ Who may this great-uncle be ? Horace 
never told me about him.” 

“ I can easily believe that. He never speaks 
of anything but you — or himself — or Egypt.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


55 


“But if I choose that he should talk to me 
about him ! ” answered Madame Corneuil haugh- 
tily. “ Is that another epigram ? ” 

“ Do you think I could make epigrams against 
that dear, handsome fellow?” hastily answered 
Madame Veretz. “I already love him like a 
son.” 

Madame Corneuil seemed to have grown 
thoughtful. 

“ I had bad dreams last night,” said she. 
“You laugh at my dreams, because you like to 
laugh at my expense. Now see : In coming from 
Paris, Monsieur de Miraval must have passed 
through Vichy. This Marquis is dangerous.” 

“Dangerous!” exclaimed Madame V4retz ; 
“ what danger have you to fear ? ” 

“ You see Madame de Penneville has sent him 
here.” 

“ Can you believe that Horace — ah ! my poor 
goose, are you not sure of his heart ? ” 

“ Is any one ever sure of a man’s heart ? ” an- 
swered she, feigning an anxiety which she was 
far from feeling. 

“Perhaps not of any man’s,” said Madame 
Veretz, smiling ; “but the heart of an Egyptolo- 
gist is quite another thing, and never changes. 
As far as sentiment goes, Egyptology is the one 
unchangeable thing.” 

“ I told you I had bad dreams, and that the 
Marquis is dangerous to us.” 


56 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ Here is my reply,” was her mother’s answer, 
as she passed her a mirror in such a way as to 
oblige her to see herself in it. 

“ It seems to me as if I looked like a fright this 
morning,” said Madame Corneuil, who thought 
nothing of the sort. 

‘‘You are beautiful as the day, my dear 
countess, and I defy all the marquises in the 
world—” 

“ ISTo, I will not receive this great-uncle,” be- 
gan Hortense again, as she pushed aside the mir- 
ror ; “ you may receive him in my place. Do you 
think I am obliged to endure impertinences ? ” 

“ There you are ! — you are putting things at 
their worst ; you are getting excited, forgetting 
yourself, and rushing at conclusions.” 

“ I tell you once more, I am ill.” 

“ My dear idol, one must never be ill except 
at the suitable moment ; and in this case take 
care, or he will fancy you are afraid of him.” 

Madame Corneuil, on reflection, evidently was 
convinced that her mother was right, for she said 
to her : 

“ Since you wish me to submit to be so bored, 
so be it ! Order my breakfast to be brought up, 
and send my maid to me.” 

“ Nothing could be better,” answered Ma- 
dame V4retz. “Ah, my dear ! I am not inflict- 
ing a bore upon you — it is a victory which I am 
preparing for you.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


57 


At these words she withdrew, not without 
kissing her for the second time. 

At two o’clock precisely, Madame Veretz, 
seated in an ajoupa opposite the veranda of 
the chalet, awaits the Count de Penneville and 
Monsieur de Miraval ; at two o’clock precisely 
the Marquis and the Count appeared on the hori- 
zon. The presentation was made with proper 
formality, and soon conversation began. Ma- 
dame V4retz was a woman of great tact in all 
difficult circumstances ; the unexpected never 
disconcerted her ; she knew how to receive an 
uncomfortable visitor as well as a disagreeable 
event. Monsieur de Miraval, however, gave her 
no occasion to practice that virtue. He was 
thoroughly courteous and gracious ; he brought 
all the amiability and brilliancy of his past gran- 
deur to bear on this occasion ; he took as much 
pains as he formerly did for the sovereigns of the 
world who gave him audience. Where was the 
use of having been a diplomate if not to possess 
the art of talking a great deal without saying 
anything ? He had words at his command, and, 
when it was necessary, a fluent eloquence, the 
art of ‘‘pouring honey over oil,” as the Russian 
proverb has it. Everything went on well. Hor- 
ace, who had greatly dreaded the interview, and 
who at first appeared constrained and disturbed, 
was soon over his anxiety, and felt his embarrass- 
ment at an end. It was part of his character to 


68 


A STROKE OP DIPLOMACY. 


be quickly reassured. He was not only a born 
joptimistJ^ut be had gone too deeply into the 
theolb^of Egypt not to know that in the human 
world, as in the divine, the struggle between the 
two principles ends generally in the triumph of 
the good, that Typhon finally submits to be dis- 
armed, and Horus, the beneficent deity, takes in 
hand the government of the universe. The 
Count de Penneville’s face expressed profound 
faith in the final triumph of Horus, the beneficent 
deity. 

The ice was entirely broken when Madame 
Corneuil made her appearance. We may easily 
believe that she had taken great pains for this 
occasion with her toilet and the arrangement of 
her hair ; her half-mourning was most charming. 
It must be granted that there are queens who 
strongly resemble ordinary people, so there are 
ordinary people who resemble queens, barring 
the crown and the king. That day Madame 
Corneuil was not merely a queen, she was a god- 
dess from head to foot. She might have been 
described as Juno appearing from a cloud. Nei- 
ther did she fail in her manner of entrance. On 
seeing her approach, the Marquis could not re- 
press a thrill of emotion, and, when he drew near- 
er to her to greet her with bowed head, he lost 
his self-command, which seldom happened to 
him ; he stood confused, began several sentences 
without being able to finish them : it is said that 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


59 


it was the first time in his life that such a mishap 
had happened to him. His disturbance was so 
great that Horace, who usually never noticed any- 
thing, could not help remarking it. 

Monsieur de Miraval made a great effort, and 
was not long in recovering his confidence and all 
his ease of manner. After a few trifling remarks, 
he began to relate pleasantly several anecdotes 
of his diplomatic career, which he seasoned with 
graceful wit and a grain of salt. 

As he told his little stories, he went on talking 
with himself. ‘‘ There is no denying it, she is 
very beautiful ; she is a superior woman, fit for a 
king. What eyes ! what hair ! what shoulders ! 
Can she be the daughter of such a mother, and 
that from that red hair come all those beautiful, 
fair locks ? There is no denying, her beauty irri- 
tates and exasperates me. If I were forty years 
younger, I would be one of her suitors. Really, 
she is superb. Can I find any fault with her? 
Yes, there is a restlessness in her eyes which I 
do not like. Her lips are rather thin — bah ! that 
is only a foible. Heaven be thanked ! there is no 
ink-spot on her finger-ends, but they are too ta- 
pering, too nervous, and look like hands ready to 
clutch. Her eyelids are too long — they can con- 
ceal a great deal. Her voice is well modulated, 
but metallic ; still, if I were forty years young- 
er — ” 

The Marquis went on telling stories. Ma- 


60 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


dame Veretz was all ears, and smiled in the best 
possible grace. As for Madame Corneuil, she 
did not desist from a somewhat disdainful gravity 
of bearing. She had come upon the scene with 
a certain part to play ; she had got it into her 
head that she was to appear before an ill-disposed 
judge, who had come expressly to take her mea- 
sure and to weigh her in the balance. So she 
armed herself with Olympian majesty and that 
insolence of beauty which tramples impertinence 
under foot, crushes the haughty, and transforms 
Actseons. into deer. Although the Marquis’s 
politeness was faultless and emphatic, and al- 
though he besought her to look favorably upon 
him, she remained firm and would not be dis- 
armed. Horace listened to all with great satis- 
faction ; he thought his uncle charming, and 
could hardly keep from embracing him. He also 
thought that Madame Corneuil never had been 
more beautiful, that the sunlight was brighter 
than ever, that it streamed down upon his happi- 
ness, that the air was full of perfume, and that 
everything in the world went on wonderfully. 
Now and then a slight shadow fell like a cloud 
before his eyes. In reading over that morning 
the fragments of Manetho, he stumbled upon 
a passage which seemed contradictory to his fa- 
vorite argument, which was dear to him as life 
itself. At intervals he began to doubt whether 
it really was during the reign of Apepi that Jo- 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


61 


seph, son of Jacob, came into Egypt ; then he 
reproached himself for his doubt, which came 
back to him the next moment. This contradic- 
tion grieved him greatly, for he had a great re- 
gard for Manetho. But when he looked at Ma- 
dame Corneuil his soul was at rest again, and 
he fancied he could read in her beautiful eyes 
a proof that the Pharaoh who knew not Joseph 
must have been Sethos I., in which case the Pha- 
raoh who did know him must have been the 
King Apepi. To be tenderly loved by a beauti- 
ful woman makes it easy to believe anything, 
and all things become possible — Manetho, Jo- 
seph, the King Apepi, and all the rest. 

What was passing in the heart of the Mar- 
quis? To what conquering charm was he the 
prey? The fact was, he no longer resembled 
himself. He had made an excellent beginning, 
and Madame Yeretz was delighted with his tales. 
Little by little his animation grew languid. This 
man, who was so great a master over his own 
thoughts, could no longer control them ; this 
man, so great a master in conversation, really 
was seeking in vain for the proper words. He 
struggled for some time against this strange fas- 
cination which deprived him of his faculties, but 
it was all in vain. He no longer took part in 
the conversation, except in a few loose phrases, 
which were absolutely irrelevant, and soon fell 
into a deep reverie and the dullest silence. 


62 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“My mother was right,” said Madame Cor- 
neuil. “ I have quite overawed him ; I have 
made him afraid of me.” 

And so, applauding herself for having silenced 
the batteries of the besieger and put out his fires, 
a smile of satisfied pride hovered around her lips. 
A moment after she rose to walk around the gar- 
den, and Horace hastened to follow her. 

The Marquis remained alone with Madame 
V^retz. He followed the pair of lovers with his 
eyes for a little while, as they slowly withdrew 
and finally disappeared behind the shrubbery. 
The spell seemed then to be unloosed. Monsieur 
de Miraval regained his voice, and, turning to- 
ward Madame V^retz, he exclaimed dramatical- 
ly : “Ho, nothing has ever been created yet more 
beautiful than youth, more divine than love. My 
nephew is a fortunate fellow. I congratulate hjm 
aloud, but I keep my envy to myself.” 

Madame Veretz rewarded this ejaculation 
with a gracious smile which signified : “ Good 
old fellow ! we judged you wrongly. How can 
you serve us best ? ” 

“ The more I see them together. Monsieur le 
Marquis,” said she, “the more I am convinced 
that they were made for one another. Hever 
were two characters better matched : they have 
the same likes and the same dislikes, the same 
elevated tone of mind, the same scorn of mediocre 
ideas and petty calculation, the same disregard 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


63 


of vulgar interests. They both live in paradise. 
Ah ! Monsieur le Marquis, only a providential 
dispensation could have brought them together.” 

“Very providential,” said the Marquis, but 
he added, in petto^ “A manoeuvring mother is 
the surest of all providences.” Then he resumed 
aloud : “ After all, what is the aim of it ? Hap- 
piness. My nephew is right to consider his affec- 
tion only. He can have his paradise, as you call 
it, madame, and all the rest into the bargain ; for 
Madame Corneuil — We will not speak of her 
beauty, which is incomparable, but it is impossi- 
ble to see her or to hear her speak without recog- 
nizing her to be a most superior woman, the 
most suitable in the world to give a man good 
counsel, and to lead him onward, to push him 
forward.” 

“ You certainly judge her correctly,” answered 
Madame V4retz. “My daughter is a strange 
being ; she is full of noble enthusiasm which she 
carries at times to exaltation, and yet she is thor- 
oughly reasonable, very intelligent as regards the 
things of this world, and, at the same time, ice 
to her own interests and on fire for others.” 

“ Only one thing distresses me,” said the Mar- 
quis to her. “ The story-teller advises all happy 
lovers to roam only to neighboring shores, and 
ours are going to bury their happiness in Mem- 
phis or in Thebes. It would be a crime to take 
Madame Corneuil away from Paris.” 


64 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ Reassure yourself,” said she ; “ Paris will 
have them back again.” 

“You do not know my nephew: he has a 
horror of that perverse and frivolous city. He 
confided to me yesterday that he means to end 
his days in Egypt, and assured me that Madame 
Corneuil was as much in love as he was with the 
solitude and silence of the region of Thebaid. 
He appears very gentle, but there never was a 
person of more determined will.” 

“Heaven help him!” said Madame Yeretz, 
looking at the Marquis as if she would say, “ My 
fine friend, there is no will which can hold against 
ours, and Paris can no more do without us than 
we without Paris.” 

“ They have chosen the good part,” continued 
Monsieur de Miraval with a deep sigh. “ I have 
often laughed at my nephew, blaming him because 
he did not know how to enjoy life ; now it is his 
turn to laugh at me, for I am reduced to envying 
his happiness. There comes an age when one re- 
grets bitterly not having been able to make a home 
for one’s self. But you must be astonished, ma- 
dame, at my confidences.” 

“ I am rather flattered by them, than aston- 
ished,” answered she. 

“ I am devoured by ennui, I must acknowl- 
edge. I had determined to pass the remainder 
of my days in retirement and in quiet, but ennui 
will yet force me out of my den. I shall plunge 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


65 


into active political life again. I have been urged 
to stand for the arrondissement where my cha- 
teau is situated, and have also been proposed for 
the senate. I might go still higher if I were mar- 
ried to a woman of sense, intelligent in the things 
of this world, in spite of her enthusiasms. Wo- 
men are a great means of success in politics. 
Would that I had a wife ! as the poet says : ^Have 
I passed the season of love ? Ah ! if my heart,’ 
etc., etc. I can not remember the rest of it, but 
never mind. Lucky Horace ! thrice happy ! What 
a vast difference there is between living in Egypt 
with the beloved, and bustling about Paris in the 
whirl of politics without the beloved ! ” 

Madame V4retz in truth thought the difference 
vast, but greatly to the advantage of the bustle 
and the whirl. She could not help thinking, “ It 
would be perfect if my future son-in-law only had 
the tastes and inclinations of his uncle 4 there 
would be nothing more to wish for.” 

From that moment, the Marquis de Miraval 
became a most interesting being to her. She tried 
to reconcile him to his fate, and, as she had a 
genius for detail and for business, she asked him 
a great many questions about his electoral arron- 
dissement and his chances of election. The Mar- 
quis, somewhat embarrassed, replied as best he 
could. He could not get out of it except by 
changing the subject, and so he gave the inquis- 
itive woman a full description of his chateau, 
5 


66 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


which was doubtless well worth the trouble, only 
he seldom visited it. The minute information 
which he gave respecting his estates and their 
revenues was not of such a nature as to chill the 
interest which she was beginning to take in him. 

During all this time, Madame Corneuil strolled 
through a path in the garden with Horace, who 
did not notice that her nerves were greatly excited 
and that she was somewhat ruffled. There were 
a great many things which the Count de Penne- 
ville never noticed. 

“ Heavens ! what beautiful weather,” said he 
to her ; “ what a beautiful sky, what a beautiful 
sun ! Still it is not the sun of Egypt ! when shall 
we see it again ? ‘ Oh, thither, thither, let us go,’ 

as says the song of Mignon. You must sing that 
song to me to-night; no one. sings it like you. 
This park never seemed so green to me as now. 
There is no denying the beauty of green grass, 
although I can get along wonderfully well with- 
out it. I once knew a traveler who thought 
Greece horrible because there were so few trees. 
There are people who are wild on the subject of 
trees. Do you remember our first excursion to 
Gizeh — the vast bare plain, the wavy hills, the 
ochre-colored sand ? You said, ‘ I could eat it ! ’ 

“We met a long line of camels ; I can see 
them now. The pyramids pierced the horizon, 
and they seemed white and sparkling. How they 
stood out against the sky ! They seemed quiver- 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


67 


ing. The air here never quivers. What a good 
breakfast we had in that chapel ! You wore a 
tarhouch on your head, and it became you like a 
charm. When shall I see you in a tarhouch again ? 
The turkey was somewhat lean, I remember, and 
I made a great blunder — I let fall the jar which 
held our Nile-water. We laughed at it well, and 
had to drink our wine unmixed. After which we 
descended into the grotto, and I interpreted hiero- 
glyphics to you for the first time. I shall never 
forget your delight at my telling you that a lute 
meant happiness, because the sign of happiness 
was the harmony of the soul. In the Chinese 
writings, happiness is represented by a handful of 
rice. After that, who could contest the immense 
superiority of soul in the genius of the Egyptians 
over the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire ? ” 

At last he discovered that Madame Corneuil 
made no reply to him ; he sought for an explana- 
tion and soon found it. 

“How did the Marquis de Miraval impress 
you ? ” asked he of her with an anxious voice. 

This time she answered. 

“ He is very distinguh. He begins stories re- 
markably well, but finishes them poorly. Must I 
be sincere ? ” 

“ Absolutely sincere.” 

“ He does not please me much.” 

“ Did he say anything to offend you ? ” ex- 
claimed Horace, who was afraid his uncle might 


68 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


have been disagreeable while his mind was wan- 
dering with Manetho and the King Apepi. 

“ He is a man of talent,” answered she, but 
I like some soul, and I suspect he has none.” 

As she spoke these words she fastened her 
.great brown eyes on the face of the young man ; 
he saw a soul in their depths ; he might perhaps 
have seen two. 

‘‘ You must he frank in your turn,” resumed 
she. “ You do not know how to tell a lie, and for 
that I love you a little. You told me that you 
were going to write to Madame de Penneville. 
The Marquis is her answer.” 

“ I must say it is so,” said he, ‘‘ but, if the 
whole universe should put itself between you and 
me, it would have its trouble for nothing. You 
know that I love and that I adore you.” 

“Your heart, then, is indeed mine, wholly 
mine ? ” asked she, with a most bewitching glance. 

“ For ever, for ever yours,” answered he, with 
voice half choked. 

They drew near an arbor, the entrance to which 
was narrow. Madame Corneuil went in first, and 
when Horace joined her she stood motionless be- 
fore him, gazing at him with a melancholy smile. 
Until that moment she kept him at a distance, 
without allowing him to make any advances, but 
now by a sudden impulse she lifted up lips and 
forehead to him, as if to claim a kiss. He under- 
stood, and yet hardly dared hope that he had 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


69 


understood. He hesitated, hut at last touched 
rightly her lips with his. He felt ill. Only once 
before had he felt the same wild emotion. It 
was one day near Thebes, when making an exca- 
vation, he saw with his eyes — his own eyes — at 
the bottom of the trench, a great sarcophagus of 
rose-granite. That day, too, he grew faint. 

Madame Corneuil sat down ; he fell at her 
feet, and, with elbows upon the beloved knees, 
he devoured her glances for a while. There was 
only the width of a path between the arbor and 
the lake ; they heard the waves whispering to the 
beach. She stammered a few words of love ; she 
spoke of that joy and mystery which no human 
tongue can express. 

After a long silence Madame Corneuil said : 

“ Great happiness is always restless and un- 
easy, everything frightens it — it is scared at 
everything. I implore you get rid of this diplo- 
mate. I never liked diplomates. All they can 
see in the world is prejudice, interest, calculation, 
and vanity.” 

“Your wishes are sacred to me,” said he to 
her, “ and, even if I must for ever break with 
him, I will do everything to please you, although 
I have always returned the friendship he has 
borne for me.” 

“ Yes, send him back to his family, who must 
object to our having him. May he return soon to 
tell his stories to them ! ” 


70 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ But allow me — I am his family ; he is un- 
married, or rather he has been a widower for 
thirty years, and has neither son nor daughter. 
But what do I care for his property ? ” 

At these words Madame Corneuil came out of 
her rapture, and pricked up her ears like a dog 
who scents unexpected game. 

His property ! You his heir ! You never 
told me so.” 

“ And why should I have told you ? What is 
money to us ? This is my treasure,” added he, 
in trying to get a second kiss, which she wisely 
refused, for one must not he too lavish. 

“ Yes, how base a trifle the whole subject of 
money is ! ” said she. “ Is the Marquis very 
rich ? ” 

My mother says that he has two hundred 
thousand livres income. He may do what he 
chooses with it. Since he does not please you, I 
will tell him plainly that I renounce my place as 
his heir.” 

It must all be done with propriety,” answered 
Madame Corneuil with considerable animation. 
“ You are fond of him. It would make me 
wretched to set you against a relation whom you 
love.” 

‘‘ I would give up all for you,” exclaimed he ; 
“the rest seems so small.” 

He remained a little longer at her feet ; but 
to his great grief she made him rise, saying : 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


71 


“ Monsieur de Miraval must remark our long 
absence from him. We must be polite.” 

Two minutes after she entered the pavilion, 
whither Horace followed her, and greeted the 
Marquis with a tinge of affability which she had 
not shown before ; but, although she had changed 
her expression and manner, the spell was not 
broken, and its effect was even more perceptible. 
Monsieur de Miraval, after having recovered all 
his wits in conversing with Madame Veretz, and 
giving her all sorts of confidences, was disturbed 
anew at the appearance of his beautiful enemy. 
He replied to all her advances in incoherent 
phrases, and sentences without head or tail, which 
might have fallen from the moon. Soon, as if 
angry with himself and his undignified weakness, 
he rose hastily, and, turning toward Madame Ye- 
retz with a profound bow, took his leave of her ; 
then, advancing toward Madame Corneuil, he 
looked her full in the eyes, and said to her with 
a sort of fierceness in his voice : 

“Madame, I came, I saw, and I have been 
conquered.” 

Thereupon he withdrew like one wishing to 
get away, and forbade his nephew to accompany 
him. It can be easily imagined that after his 
departure he was freely discussed. All agreed 
that his conduct was peculiar ; but Madame Y4- 
retz protested that she thought him more charm- 
ing than odd, but Madame Corneuil thought him 


72 


A STEOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


more odd than charming. Horace, for his part, 
tried to explain the eccentricity of his conduct by 
his varying state of health, or by a certain whim- 
sical disposition excusable at his age. He ac- 
knowledged that he had never seen him so before, 
but had always known him to be a hon vivant, 
active, of good memory, witty, and easily adapt- 
ing himself to all. 

“ There is some mystery about it that you 
must take pains to clear up,” said Madame Cor- 
neuil to him ; and as he looked at his watch and 
was about to withdraw — “ By the way, lazy boy,” 
said she to him, “ when are you going to read me 
the famous fourth chapter of your ‘ History of the 
Hyksos ’ ? You must remember that you were to 
read it some evening with a midnight supper in its 
honor. We must have that supper in Paris* Will 
it not be delicious ? ” 

At thought of the little private banquet in 
honor of Apepi, Horace’s heart thrilled with de- 
light and his eyes beamed. 

“ I will send you nothing until it is worthy of 
you. Give me ten days more.” 

‘‘ Ten days — ^that is a century ! ” said she ; 
“but keep your word, or I shall break with 
you.” 

As he drew away she added, “ The next time 
you meet Monsieur de Miraval, be distrustful and 
be shrewd.” 

“He shrewd!” exclaimed Madame Veretz, 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


73 


wlien alone with her daughter ; “ you might as 
well order him to swim across the lake.” 

“Is that meant for another epigram?” said 
Madame Corneuil crossly. 

“ Since I adore him as he is,” answered the 
mother, “what more can you expect? As for 
Monsieur de Miraval, you are quite wrong to 
worry yourself on his account. My opinion is, 
that he is entirely won over to our side.” 

“ It is not mine,” answered Madame Cor- 
neuil. 

“ At all events, my dear, we must treat him 
with great tact, for I know from the very best 
authority — ” 

“ You are going to tell me,” interrupted Ma- 
dame Corneuil disdainfully, “that he has an in- 
come of two hundred thousand livres, and that 
Horace is his heir. Such base trifles are like af- 
fairs of state to you.” 

Soon after she said to her mother, “ Then ask 
Horace to invite him to breakfast with us at an 
early day.” 


IV. 

The next afternoon the Count de Penneville 
went to the Hotel Gibbon, hoping to see his uncle 
there, but he did not find him. He left his card 
with a few words to express his regret at having 
taken his drive for naught, and to tell him that 
Madame V4retz and daughter would be happy to 


74 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


see the Marquis de Miraval at breakfast on the 
following day. The Marquis sent him his reply 
in the evening ; he said that he was not well, and 
begged his nephew to excuse him to the ladies, 
whose kind attention touched him deeply. Un- 
easy about his uncle’s health, Horace went in the 
morning, contrary to all his habitual custom, to 
inquire for him. This time also the nest was 
empty, and the Count had both the regret at hav- 
ing lost his steps for nothing and the pleasure 
of concluding that the invalid must be well again. 

Urged by Madame Corneuil, he wrote to con- 
vey to him another invitation to breakfast. The 
Marquis replied by special dispatch that he had 
just decided to return to Paris, and was much 
grieved that he had not even time enough to bid 
them good-by. 

This sudden and unexpected departure excited 
the pension Vallaud greatly. They talked of it 
for a full hour by the clock, and they talked of it 
on the days following. Monsieur de Penneville 
was the first to get over his surprise. ‘‘ Come 
what may,” thought he, “ I am firm as a rock,” 
and he would soon have begun to think of some- 
thing else. The mother and daughter were less 
philosophical. Madame V4retz was painfully sur- 
prised, and keenly disturbed at having been so 
mistaken, for she prided herself upon never hav- 
ing been mistaken. Madame Corneuil said to her 
triumphantly : 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


75 


‘‘I congratulate you upon your penetration. 
You said that Monsieur de Miraval was entirely 
gained over to our side. It turns out that all his 
kindness did not even reach the first principles of 
civility. He came as a spy, and he has gone back 
at once to report to Madame de Penneville. We 
shall soon hear from him, and the news will not 
be very pleasant. I am quite sure that you did 
not know how to behave with him, and said some- 
thing which compromises us.” 

“ Is that the way I am in the habit of doing, 
my dear?” answered Madame Veretz. “I con- 
fess that such conduct surprises me. It is con- 
trary to all my notions of the customs of nations. 
Before going to war, a gentleman should de- 
clare it. This monster has concealed his game 
well.” . 

“You have always been blindly confi- 
dent.” 

“ And yet evil tongues persist that I am a suc- 
cessful manoeuvring mother. Do not overwhelm 
me, my darling ; what distresses me is that an 
inheritance of two hundred thousand livres’ in- 
come does not grow on every bush.” 

“You think of nothing but the inheritance. 
That may well be questioned ; but there is some 
dark plot going on, of which we shall soon see 
the results. This old fellow is going to play some 
trick of his own upon us.” 

“Let us wait awhile,” said Madame V4retz ; 


76 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ it needs heavy cannon to take fortresses. Say 
what you like, we may sleep at our ease in our 
beds.” 

Three days after, Madame Veretz, unknown 
to her daughter, went out very early to do her 
own marketing, and, on her return, entered 
stealthily into the apartment of the Count de 
Penneville, opened the door of his study, and 
with hand upon the latch said to him : 

‘‘ Do you want to know something, my pretty 
bluebird ? Monsieur de Miraval has not left 
Lausanne. I just met him crossing the Place 
Saint-Franyois.” 

“ That is impossible ! ” answered he, dropping 
his pen. 

“ Perhaps it is impossible, but.it is more true 
than impossible,” said she, rushing off. 

Horace went forthwith to the Hotel Gibbon, 
and was no more successful than before. He 
returned in the evening, and his perseverance 
was at 'last rewarded. He was overjoyed to see 
Monsieur de Miraval assisting his digestion by 
smoking a cigar on the terrace of the hotel. 

“Well, uncle,” said he, “I thought you had 
gone ? ” 

“ The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” 
answered the Marquis. “ Lausanne is such a de- 
lightful town that I had not the courage to tear 
myself away.” 

“ Condescend to explain.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


77 


‘‘ Come up into my room,” interrupted he ; 
‘‘ we can talk better there.” 

As soon as they entered it, the Marquis threw 
himself into a chair, murmuring, “ Oh, how tired 
I am ! ” then he offered an easy-chair to his 
nephew, who said to him : 

“ Once for all, let us understand one another. 
Friend or enemy ? ” 

‘‘Let us make a distinction. Friend of the 
dear fellow before me, but a determined enemy, 
a sworn enemy, and a mortal enemy to his mar- 
riage.” 

“ So Madame Corneuil was not so fortunate as 
to please you ! ” resumed Horace, in a tone of 
bitter irony. 

“Quite the contrary,” said the Marquis, sud- 
denly becoming excited. “ You did not say 
enough that was good about that woman. There 
is only one word suitable — she is adorable.” 

“ But uncle, if that is so — ” 

“ Adorable, I say it again ; but not at all 
suited to you. And, to begin with, you think 
you love her — you do not love her.” 

“ Be kind enough to prove that.” 

“Ho, you do not love her. You see her 
through the medium of your mutual remem- 
brances of travel, through the medium of the 
delight you took in explaining the tomb of Ti to 
her. You see her through Egypt and the Pha- 
raohs. From the summits of the pyramids, forty 


78 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


centuries have looked down upon your betroth^ 
and Jh.at is why your love is so dear to you. ^ 
is a pure mirage of the desert ! Leave out Egypt, 
leave out Ti, breathe on the rest, and nothing 
remains.” 

“ If that is your only objection — ” 

“I have another one still. You are not of the 
same age.” 

“She is seventeen months, two weeks, and 
three days older than I. Is that worth talking 
about ? ” 

“ I hope your figures are right. I know your 
strict exactness in all kinds of calculation. But 
this woman is very mature in character, and you 
will be a child all your life. It might be said of 
you as of the Bishop of Avranches, ‘ When will 
his reverence get through his studies?’ If you 
were in business, diplomacy, or politics, I should 
say, ‘ Marry that phoenix ; your future will be se- 
cure.’ But it would be ridiculous for a perpetual 
scholar to marry Madame Corneuil. You flatter 
yourself that you are inspiring her with your own 
tastes and your enthusiasms, which only fill her 
with indulgent compassion. You bore her with 
your talk about Manetho ; but, as she has many 
talents, one of them is that of sleeping without 
showing it.” 

“ Have you finished, dear uncle ? ” 

“My sweet friend, I will spare you the 
rest.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


79 


‘‘ Do you think that I would take the trouble 
to reply ? ” 

“ I will dispense with that ; I am fully con- 
vinced.” 

“ Have you written to my mother ? ” 

‘‘ Not yet ; I do not know what to write. I 
am greatly embarrassed.” 

“ If you remember, you gave me your word 
of honor as an uncle and a gentleman that you 
would do nothing without my knowledge.” 

Upon my word of honor, both as uncle and 
as a gentleman, you may see my letters. Come 
again in two days, at this same hour, because I 
do not come in until dinner-time. I will show 
you my scrawls.” 

“ Now we understand each other,” answered 
Horace ; “ it is war, but an honorable war.” 

And he took leave of his uncle without shak- 
ing hands, so deeply did he take to heart the im- 
pertinent insinuations of Monsieur de Miraval ; 
but on his way back he soon began to find them 
rather more amusing than impertinent. He end- 
ed by rehearsing them to himself laughingly, and 
he also laughingly repeated them to Madame 
Corneuil, to whom he gave a minutely faithful 
and exact account of his visit at the Hotel Gib- 
bon. His sincerity was rewarded by a most en- 
chanting smile and many evidences of lovely and 
delightful tenderness. As in the arbor, a radiant 
brow was bent forward as if to meet his lips. It 


80 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


is not true that there is no kiss like the first. The 
second filled Horace with such sweet intoxica- 
tion that he could not work the rest of the day 
without abstraction. He was busy in remember- 
ing it. 

His surprises were not over. Upon going the 
next day but one to the rendezvous appointed by 
his uncle, he learned that Monsieur de Miraval 
had left the evening before, and this time for 
good. Ho one could tell where he had gone. He 
had paid his bill, and left the hotel without further 
explanation. Did the Marquis suspect that his 
inconsistent and whimsical behavior was troubling 
greatly the heart of an adorable woman, and even 
disturbing her nightly repose ? Madame Corneuil 
was again overcome by these perplexities, which 
told upon her disposition. Madame Veretz had 
hard work to defend herself, although, to tell the 
truth, she was not in the least to blame. 

“Bah ! ” said Horace to them. “We distress 
ourselves altogether too much about all this. 
“ What is the use of tormenting ourselves and 
bothering our heads about it? Let us not sus- 
pect dark mysteries where there are none at all. 
I had not seen my uncle before for two years. 
Perhaps, fresh as he seems, the approach of age 
may make itself felt ; perhaps he may not have 
all his wits. He used always to know exactly 
what he wanted, now he knows that no longer. 
I am distressed about it, for I love him dearly ; 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


81 


and, if he is losing his mind, I freely forgive him 
all the outrageous things he said to me.” 

He did not know what to think when, at the 
end of a week, one morning when it was pouring 
hard, he saw Monsieur de Miraval enter his study, 
looking sober and melancholy, with clouded brow 
and lusterless eye. 

“Where did you come from, uncle?” ex- 
claimed he. 

“ Where should I come from if not from my 
hotel ? ” answered the Marquis. 

“But you left it a week ago.” 

“ I mean the Hotel Beau-Rivage, at the borders 
of the lake at Ouchy, the port of Lausanne, where 
I settled myself, after I became dissatisfied with 
the Hotel Gibbon.” 

“ I know very well,” said Horace, “ that the 
H6tel Beau-Rivage is at Ouchy, neither am I ig- 
norant of the fact that Ouchy is the port of Lau- 
sanne. But I do not know why you changed 
your quarters without letting me know.” 

“Excuse me, boy — I am so busy.” 

“ At what ? ” 

“ That is my secret.” 

“ I am sorry for it, uncle, but your secret does 
not make you happy. Where is all your brilliant 
gayety ? You seem as sober to me to-day as a 
prison-lock. Can you be tormented by remorse ? ” 

“ Where do you get the idea that I have re- 
morse ? This cursed rain troubles me. Look at 
6 


82 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


that lake ; it is rough and ugly. Does it always 
rain hereabouts ? Have you a barometer ? ” 

“ Here is one at your service. Pray do you 
confide your secrets to my mother ? Have you in 
your pocket the scrawl of a letter which you were 
to show me ? ” 

The Marquis answered neither yes nor no. 
He walked up and down the room, cursing the 
rain which prevented everything, and every now 
and then he returned to the barometer, which he 
tapped obstinately in hope that it might indicate 
fair weather. Then, in the midst of a lamentation 
he took his hat and rushed out as brusquely as he 
had entered, in spite of his nephew’s efforts to 
keep him to breakfast. 

The next day, being Sunday, it did not rain, 
thanks to Heaven, but it made up for it by blow- 
ing very hard. The lake, lashed by the breeze, 
was no longer itself ; it had the appearance of an 
angry ocean. The Marquis returned at the same 
hour, looking as cross and as disturbed as on the 
previous day, swearing against the wind as ener- 
getically as he had protested against the rain. 
He could talk of nothing else, and again tapped 
the barometer, but this time he wished to make 
it fall. 

“ The stupid thing has gone up too high ! ” 
growled he. 

‘‘ It probably did not understand exactly what 
you wanted it to do,” said Horace. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


83 


“ I am in no mood for joking,” answered he, 
‘‘ and am going out.” 

In vain Horace tried to keep him ; he reached 
the door and stairway, whither his nephew fol- 
lowed him, and then, taking his arm, said that he 
was determined to accompany him back to his 
hotel. He hoped that on his way thither he 
might make him talk of something besides the 
wind. They had not gone fifty steps when they 
saw a carriage coming at full speed, as if to get out 
of the storm, and in it were Madame V eretz and her 
daughter. The ladies were returning from mass 
at Lausanne, where it has been celebrated ever since 
there has been a Catholic church on the Rippone. 

Just as they were about to cross, Madame 
V4retz, who was always on the lookout, gave an 
order to the coachman, and the carriage stopped 
short. Horace took care not to let go his uncle’s 
arm, and obliged him to halt. Evidently the charm 
at once began to act again, for as he drew near 
the open door of the carriage, and the Marquis 
encountered the glances of Madame Corneuil, his 
countenance fell. He bowed awkwardly, mut- 
tered a few words utterly devoid of sense or any 
pretensions thereto, then, freeing himself from 
his nephew’s grasp, he made another bow, and, 
turning his back upon them, disappeared. 

“ He grows more and more inexplicable,” said 
Madame Yeretz. “ I begin to think his conscience 
troubles him.” 


84 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


“ He is a conspirator with occasional twinges,” 
said Madame Corneuil. 

‘‘ He confessed to me yesterday that he had a 
secret,” said Horace. 

“ I can guess it,” resumed Madame Y4retz. 

“And to free my heart,” answered Horace, 
“I am going to write to my mother this very 
evening.” 

As often happens, the wind suddenly fell during 
the night. In consequence, the Marquis was not 
to he seen the next day. Madame Y eretz strove 
to find out about him. Perhaps she had spies in 
her employ, and sent them around the country. 
A few hours later she had the satisfaction of tell- 
ing her daughter and Monsieur de Penneville that, 
every morning, except when it was rainy or windy, 
the Marquis de Miraval took the boat which 
crossed the lake from Ouchy to Evian, and passed 
the entire day in Savoy, returning at the very last 
moment to dine at the hotel. Now, what was his 
business in Savoy ? They were lost in conjec- 
tures. The thing most probable upon which they 
settled down was that Madame de Penneville had 
left Yichy for Evian, and that her agent and em- 
issary joined her every day to confer with her, 
and that the bomb would explode before long. 
Madame Yeretz seriously expressed a wish, al- 
though under the form of a joke, that the Mar- 
quis should be tracked, and that Monsieur de 
Penneville should go to Evian the next day to 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


85 


find out what was going on. Her daughter and 
Horace disliked the idea, and declined the propo- 
sition, one from honor, the other from prudence. 
Madame Corneuil, who had been timid ever since 
that night when she had been so disturbed by bad 
dreams, said to herself, “ Out of sight out of 
mind.” Not that she minded so much that for an 
entire day the lake would separate her and her 
beloved, but she was afraid lest, in the chances of 
this expedition, he might fall into the hands of the 
Philistines, who would get him away from her. 

Their anxiety was soon over. Horace had 
written to his mother, and received from her the 
following reply : 

‘‘Mt dear Child : Monsieur de Miraval 
agreed to let you know my inmost thought on 
the subject of the marriage which you are con- 
templating. Why do you speak of plotting? 
Your uncle wrote me, and, to prove to you how 
sincerely I am acting in this matter which troubles 
me so much, I take it upon myself to send you 
his letter, begging you to say nothing to him 
about it, for he would not easily forgive my in- 
discretion. You will see by this letter how little 
he is prejudiced against the woman whom you 
love, and consequently the objections which he 
makes to your scheme deserve to be taken into 
serious consideration by you. Your mother, who 
desires your happiness.” 


86 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


The letter of the Marquis ran thus : 

“ My dear Mathilde : I have delayed taking 
pen in hand, and trust you will forgive me. The 
case is altogether different from what I expected, 
and demands further reflection. I have very lit- 
tle hope of separating Horace from her whom I 
call his ‘ asp of the Nile.’ I promised you that I 
would bring all my diplomatic talent to bear on 
this occasion. I was wrong to be so sure of my 
weapons ; what can diplomacy effect where such a 
woman is concerned? You know that I came 
here armed with prejudices to the teeth ; you 
know, also, that I am somewhat a judge of both 
men and women, and that I do not lack quickness 
of perception. I have seen and I have been con- 
quered ; I could not help saying so to Madame 
Corneuil herself. I will not mention to you her 
marvelous beauty, the grace of her wit, her lite- 
rary talent, which is of the very first order, or the 
nobility of her sentiments. One word will suffice. 
You know how great was my horror of this mar- 
riage ; I entered upon a campaign of which I have 
a very disagreeable remembrance. For the first 
time — you will believe you are dreaming, my 
dear, and yet it is only too true — yes, if it were 
not for Horace, if Madame Corneuil’s heart were 
free, if my sixty-five years did not terrify her, 
yes, I would without hesitation dare to venture 
all, and I believe I could thus make sure of my 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


87 


happiness for the few years I have yet to live. 
You will laugh at me, and rightly. Fortunately, 
Horace exists ; and, besides, be assured, I should 
stand no chance of being accepted. There, let 
us leave my little Utopia and speak of Horace. 
If things are so, you will say, let him marry her ! 
No, my dear Mathilde, I do not think it would be 
a happy marriage. There is a decided want of 
sympathy in the disposition, taste and character 
of these two beings ; it is impossible for me to 
admit that they are made for one another. I 
have spoken my mind freely to Horace, but there 
is no reasoning with a lover. You might as well 
play the flute to a flsh. I have tried both lovers 
and flsh unsuccessfully, and they are the hardest 
creatures on earth to persuade. Nevertheless, I 
will make one more attempt and renew the attack 
at the favorable moment, and you shall hear from 
me before long. But I must say, without re- 
proaching you, however, that I regret bitterly 
ever coming to Lausanne ; you little suspect the 
poor service you rendered me in sending me hither, 
or the stormy days and troubled nights which are 
spent here by your old uncle, who embraces 
you.” 

Five minutes after reading this letter — that is 
to say, at ten o’clock in the morning — Horace, 
transgressing all the rules of the country, ran to 
the chalet, where Madame V4retz received him. 


88 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


He was beside himself, and the first thing which 
he did was to burst out laughing. 

‘^Hush ! ” said> she quickly, grasping him by 
the arm. ‘‘ Do you forget that it is against the 
rule to laugh here in the morning ? ” 

Horace threw a passionate kiss in the direc- 
tion of the sanctuary and said to Madame V4- 
retz: 

“Dear madame, come then as soon as you 
can to the garden, for absolutely I must laugh.” 
As soon as they were in the arbor — “ Oh,” re- 
sumed he, “ something altogether too funny has 
happened ! ” 

“ What has happened ? What is it all about ? ” 

“ My poor, poor uncle ! ” and he burst out 
laughing again. 

“ Explain yourself, for pity’s sake ! ” said Ma- 
dame Veretz. 

“ Fancy ! He is desperately in love with Plor- 
tense himself.” 

Madame Veretz started. 

“You are telling me a most extraordinary 
story.” 

“ Only listen to me, please.” Thereupon he 
read both letters aloud, interrupting his reading 
at intervals to indulge freely in his gayety. 

The first thing Madame Veretz did was to 
laugh also, the second to listen with religious at- 
tention, the third to take the letters, which Horace 
had just read, out of his hands, and to authenti- 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


89 


cate the most interesting passages. It is well to 
believe only one’s own eyes. 

“ Oh, my poor uncle ! ” exclaimed he. ‘‘ This 
was your famous secret ! He must have rewritten 
that letter ten times before sending it off; he was 
afraid my mother would laugh at him. Just no- 
tice the pains he has taken to make it all a joke, 
and yet how, in spite of himself, he betrays the 
seriousness of his passion. Yes, ‘his days are 
stormy and his nights disturbed.’ I can well 
conceive it. I beg you to see how everything is 
explained — his incoherent conduct, his blushes, 
his perplexity, his singular attacks of rudeness, 
and all his impolite behavior toward you, when 
he is so polite and such a slave to conventionality ! 
He has determined not to put foot in your house 
again, as the butterfly resolves not to fly again 
into the flame of the candle. Every morning he 
thinks, - I^ust leave Lausanne, I will go away,’ 
but has not the courage to go. And, since he can 
not keep still, he airs his love-troubles on the lake. 
We wondered what he could be doing in Savoy. 
He goes to Meillerie to look at the rock of Saint- 
Preux, and rehearse his sorrows in its great shad- 
ow. Then he says to himself again, ‘ I must go,’ 
and yet he does not go, but every day begins to 
make his wide and monotonous circuit round the 
chalet, where his heart stays fixed.” 

“Yes,” said Madame Veretz ; “that is it. We 
must believe that the planets love the sun, and yet 


90 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


fear it. That is the reason why they move round 
it in circles.” 

“ But, to speak the truth,” answered he, resum- 
ing his serious manner, ‘Hhat is not just the way 
astronomers explain the thing.” 

‘‘Heaven help them !” said Madame V4retz. 

At these words she slipped into her pocket the 
Marquis’s letter, which Horace never thought of 
asking for again. 

“Heally,” answered he, “I love and respect 
my uncle, and it goes against my conscience to 
laugh at him. But 1 can not pity him. He under- 
took a very ugly mission ; and pray observe that 
even now he flatters himself that he may gain the 
case, and he still cherishes, I know not how, a 
faint hope. Heavens ! how I long to tell the story 
to Hortense ! ” 

“ If you think anything of my judgment, my 
dear Count, you will not tell her a word of it, not 
a single word,” answered Madame Y4retz, se- 
riously. “ Let us laugh over it between ourselves 
like two schoolfellows, but you know Hortense 
does not like to laugh. She is so sensitive that 
that which amuses us might wound or grieve her.” 

“ Heaven keep me from that ! Still, I am 
sorry that you forbid it, it is such a good story ! ” 
Thereupon he left her, but, on returning to his 
own room, said to himself, “Ho matter, sooner 
or later, when the right moment comes, I shall 
speak about it to Hortense.” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


91 


V. 

It was near ten o’clock in the evening. The 
mother and daughter were alone in their salon. 
Madame Yeretz was seated at her embroidery- 
frame, Madame Corneuil was leaning back dream- 
ily on a lounge ; as she was not meditating, it 
was allowable to talk. 

“ Then to-morrow is the great day,” said her 
mother to her, in lifting her head from her 
work. 

‘‘ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Monsieur de Penneville is to bring forth his 
great work. He has told me that his manuscript 
is seventy-three leaves long, neither more nor less ; 
you know how important those leaves are. We 
shall not get off with less than two whole hours of 
it by the clock. That fellow’s voice is so distinct 
and penetrating that we can hear without listen- 
ing. It fills our ears whether we wish it or not. 
You are fortunate, my dear : Monsieur de Mir aval 
told the truth when he said that you have the 
faculty of sleeping without showing it.” 

“ That is rather a questionable joke,” answered 
Madame Corneuil haughtily. 

“ It is no crime in my eyes ; we must protect 
ourselves against Apepi as well as we can. Every 
one has his own way of getting out of the rain. 
Heavens ! the dear fellow may have his peculiari- 
ties, but that does not prevent him from having 


92 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


a kind heart, and all that ; neither does it prevent 
him from being adored.” 

“Ah, yes, I adore him,” answered Madame 
Corneuil sharply, “ or rather. Monsieur de Penne- 
ville is inexpressibly dear to me, and I beg you 
never to doubt that.” 

Madame Veretz began to embroider again, and 
after a short silence said : “ Good heavens ! what 
a pity ! ” 

“ What is the matter now ? ” 

“ What a pity it is that the uncle is not the 
nephew, or the nephew the uncle ! ” 

“ What uncle are you talking about ? ” 

“ The Marquis de Miraval.” 

“ That conspirator ! That dreadful old man ! ” 
“You never gave him a fair look — he is not 
dreadful at all. His expression is charming, his 
voice is fresh, his hand dimpled and well kept, 
just the hand of a diplomate or prelate. Do you 
dislike him so much ? ” 

“ Unspeakably.” 

“You are unjust, very unjust ; he has a great 
many different kinds of merit. In the first place 
he is a marquis ; the other is only a count, and the 
streets are full of counts. Then, too, his income 
is not sixty thousand livres ; he has more than 
three times as much.” 

“ Two hundred thousand,” said Madame Cor- 
neuil. “ Why do you stop there ? ” 

“ Still another advantage ; if he chooses to 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


93 


marry again, he is not obliged to endeavor to 
reconcile his mother to the marriage. We may 
try in vain. Madame de Penneville will never 
like us. You see that she will break with her son, 
and that will he a bad thing for you. The world, 
in such cases, always sides with the mother ; and 
then. Monsieur de Miraval is no antiquary, but a 
man of the world, and, what is more, a very am- 
bitious one. He has determined to enter political 
life again ; before many months hB^will be either 
deputy or senator, as he chooses.” 

“ Who told you so ? ” 

‘‘ He himself, and he added that his only grief 
was that he was unmarried, for he needed a ‘ salon^ 
and there could be no salon without a wife. The 
other only cares for grottoes, and only sighs for 
his dear Memphis, whither he will take you at 
once.” 

“ You know well,” answered she quickly, “ that 
Horace will do exactly as I wish.” 

“ Do not trust to that. Monsieur de Miraval 
says he is gentle but determined. Good heavens ! 
what can we find to do in Egypt, we who look 
upon our lives as a vocation, as an apostleship ? 
The bottom of an hypogeum is a fine place to fol- 
low a vocation in ! ” 

“ What has gone wrong with you to-night ? ” 
said Madame Corneuil, shaking her beautiful 
head like a bored Muse, and pouting her Juno 
lips like a Juno who has not yet met her Jupiter. 


94 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


Madame Yeretz drew her needle in and out, 
and hummed a tune to herself. Madame Cor- 
neuil renewed the conversation. 

“ I do not know what has gotten hold of you. 
You seem to have set to work to disgust me with 
my happiness. Who was it who wished for this 
marriage, or at least advised it ? ” 

‘‘ Love takes the place of all else, my daugh- 
ter. So regret nothing, since you love him.” 

“ Heavens ! you know very well that I have 
never met the man of my dreams. But I love 
Horace ; I mean, by that, that I have liked him 
and still like him. But you have not told me 
why to-night — ” 

“ Good ! ” thought Madame Y eretz, “ we have 
got over adoration,” and she resumed aloud : “ My 
beautiful one, Monsieur de Penneville is a splen- 
did partly I do not contradict that, and I recom- 
mended him because I had nothing better to 
offer.” 

“ While to-night — ? ” 

“Ah, to-night I know of another one.” 

Madame Yeretz rose from her chair, and, after 
rummaging in her pocket, drew near her daugh- 
ter, and said to her : 

“ Head these two letters ; I do not give them 
to you, I only lend them, for Monsieur de Penne- 
ville noticed that I kept them, and I must send 
them back to him to-morrow morning.” 

Madame Corneuil cast her eyes disdainfully 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


95 


over the first of the two letters ; hut, when she 
began the second, she changed her position, roused 
herself from her languor, her pale cheek was suf- 
fused with color, and something could be read in 
her eyes which her long eyelashes did not strive 
to conceal. 

And yet, when she had finished reading, she 
rose, took an envelope from a drawer, inclosed 
both letters in it, begged her mother to direct it, 
rang for Jacquot, and said to him : 

“ Take this packet to the Count de Penneville 
immediately ! ” after which she sank back on the 
lounge again. 

“Did those scraps of paper bum your fin- 
gers ?” said Madame Veretz, with a smile. 

“ You should have spared me the trouble of 
reading such rubbish,” answered she. 

“ Rubbish, my dear ? What would the Mar- 
quis say if he heard that ? The poor man is 
dreadfully excited ! It is his own fault : why did 
he come near a beautiful pair of eyes which are 
accustomed to work such miracles ? ” 

“ Not another word,” rejoined the daughter. 
“ You know I can not endure that sort of jest- 
ing.” 

Madame Veretz returned to her embroidery. 
Madame Corneuil rose, and walked up and down 
the room restlessly and excitedly. Then she 
seated herself at the piano, and sighed forth in 
an agitated, passionate voice that song of Mi- 


96 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


gnon’s wHcli Horace liked so well. She stopped 
in the middle of the last verse, and, turning to- 
ward her mother, said : 

‘‘ No, I do not understand you. Is it possible 
that you can seriously propose to me that I should 
give up a man who is full of good qualities, a man 
worthy of my esteem, and personally attractive 
also?” 

The other morning, when he laughed so, he 
looked like a splendid sheep who had learned 
Coptic,” interrupted Madame Veretz. 

‘‘A man who has my word,” resumed she. 
“You dread scandal ; I think, then, there would 
be something to criticise.” 

“ It is only necessary to take proper precau- 
tions. We need not leave him — he can leave us.” 

“ And for whom would I sacrifice him ? for a 
man of seventy ? ” 

“ Ah, pardon — the Marquis is only sixty-five, 
and he does not look that. He has had a splen- 
did past, and still will have a pleasant future. I 
predict a great success for him in the tribune, one 
of those successes which is rewarded with a min- 
istry. France is so poor in men ! and then, my 
dear idol, you had better believe that only old 
men know how to love ! They are so pleased 
that they are tolerated ; I will add also that Mon- 
sieur de Miraval has fine taste — he appreciates our 
writing. He stamps it ‘ of the highest order.’ ” 

Thereupon Madame V4retz left her work again, 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


97 


rushed at her daughter, and, pressing her in her 
arms, said : 

“ Are you vexed ? Then we will say no more 
about it. Monsieur de Penneville and his uncle 
are totally unlike. You like one — ” 

“ You never get the right word — I do not dis- 
like him.” 

“ And you do dislike the other ? ” 

Heavens ! I did dislike him.” 

‘‘Well, now they are both on the same foot- 
ing, on the same level. The lists are open.” 

“ You are quite right ; you will end in offend- 
ing me in good earnest,” answered Madame Cor- 
neuil, lighting a candle to retire to her room. 

As she was going out she drew near the win- 
dow, and for a moment gazed upon the starry 
vault as if to seek an inspiration therefrom. 
Then, turning to her mother, she said, resolutely 
and solemnly : 

“ Be sure that I shall consult my heart alone. 
If you misapprehend my sentiments, I shall re- 
serve the right to disclaim them.” 

Madame Yeretz kissed her once more, saying : 

“You are just like the King of Prussia ; you 
talk about your heart and your conscience, and 
let things take their own course, merely reserving 
the right to disclaim your responsibility. Well, 
then, I will be your Bismarck.” 

And so saying she accompanied her adorable 
angel to the door of her sacred retreat. 

7 


98 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


The next day a fine rain fell in the early morn- 
ing, notwithstanding which the Marquis did not 
visit his nephew, which disappointed Madame 
Y4retz exceedingly ; perhaps she had intended to 
stop him by the way and take possession of him. 
In the afternoon the weather cleared up, and she 
proposed to her daughter to take a drive. Hor- 
ace did not go with them ; he depended upon 
going over his manuscript again, that there need 
be no impediment in his reading this evening ; he 
felt that it could never be good enough. 

As the ladies were returning from their drive 
along the beautiful esplanade of Montbennon, 
which commands a wonderful view of the lake 
and of the Alps, Madame Veretz, whose eyes 
ferreted out everything, perceived the Marquis 
seated in a melancholy attitude upon a solitary 
bench. She descended quickly from the carriage, 
begging her daughter to return alone. A few 
minutes after, with seeming carelessness, she 
passed before the Marquis at a distance of about 
ten steps, and uttered a little scream of joyful 
surprise. Monsieur de Miraval saw a chignon of 
most beautiful red come between him and the 
Alps ; he would have preferred it to have been 
blonde, but made the best of it. 

“ Thanks be to this good chance ! ” exclaimed 
Madame Y4retz. ‘‘You are my prisoner. Mon- 
sieur le Marquis, and must surrender at discre- 
tion.’’ 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


99 


He offered her his arm, saying to her : 

“ I am much pleased with my jailer, dear ma- 
dame.” 

‘‘I will excuse you from being gallant,” an- 
swered she. I only wish you to speak to me 
openly, if that can ever be asked of a diplomate. 
Will you be sincere ? ” 

‘‘ I will be as sincere as Amen-heb, surnamed 
the truth-telling keeper of the flocks of Ammon.” 

“You must at once acknowledge that I have 
the right to question you. Has not your conduct 
toward us been most peculiar? Since the day 
Monsieur de Penneville introduced you, you have 
taken every pains to avoid us.” 

“ Believe me, madame — ” 

“Really, what harm could we have done to 
you? You certainly must have discovered that I 
was a fool.” 

“ Dear madame, from the first moment when 
I had the honor of meeting you, I have considered 
you a woman of great talent.” 

“ If that be so, can it be my daughter who has 
the misfortune to displease you ? ” 

“Your daughter!” exclaimed the Marquis, 
“ Could I be so cursed by God and man ! Why, 
your daughter is adorable.” 

“ The very words of the letter,” thought Ma- 
dame V4retz ; “he is right in sticking to it.” 
Then she resumed : “ Monsieur le Marquis, what 
means all this mystery, then ? ” 


100 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


‘‘ Ah ! madame,” said he to her, looking slyly 
at her, “ you are a very clever woman, and you 
live with those who can decipher hieroglyphics. 
I am afraid you may have divined me.” 

‘‘You exaggerate my clairvoyance. I have 
divined nothing whatever. Is it true, as Mon- 
sieur de Penneville pretends, that you have a se- 
cret?” 

“ Can my nephew accidentally have discovered 
that secret ? You alarm me ; he is the last man 
in the world to whom I would make my con- 
fession.” 

“ I can easily believe that,” thought she ; “ we 
have the hare by the ears now.” 

Gently pressing the Marquis’s arm, she said to 
him : “ Indeed, I do not understand you at all, 
and I like nothing better than making out people. 
Will you not reveal this dreadful secret to 
me?” 

“Never, madame, never. I have not yet lost 
all respect for my white hairs ; I stand in awe 
of them ; should you want me to cover them with 
everlasting ridicule ? ” 

“ You are the only one that sees that they are 
white,” said she, with a most encouraging glance. 

“ And then,” resumed he, “ you would betray 
me to Horace. For the first time an uncle trem- 
bles before his nephew.” 

“ I shall have to give it up,” thought Madame 
Y4retz, a little angry ; “ his white hairs and his 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


101 


nephew are a restraint upon him. He will not 
speak until the other has left the place.” 

After a pause she resumed : Monsieur le 
Marquis, if you had been less stingy of your visits 
you would have both honored and delighted us, 
for I longed to see you, and talk with you about 
something which troubles me. I have my secret 
as well, and I longed to confide it to you. Yes, 
for several days I have been very much disturbed. 
Monsieur de Penneville, who has the unfortunate 
habit of telling everything — ” 

Very unfortunate indeed, madame ; I have 
often reproved him for it.” 

Without curing him of it, however,” pursued 
she, “ since he repeated to us a conversation which 
he had had with you, without keeping back any 
of the objections which occurred to you on the 
subject of his marriage.” 

‘‘ I recognize him there, the wretch ! ” said the 
Marquis. 

It has given me a great deal to think of, and 
I am forced to respect your excellent reason. I 
am greatly to blame, for I have been cruelly mis- 
taken. There is not between those young people 
that harmony of character and of taste which is 
the first condition of happiness.” 

“ How pleased I am to hear you speak thus ! ” 
exclaimed he. ‘‘ The great point is harmony of 
tastes ; neither is that enough. According to the 
ideas of Providence and also of my own, mar- 


102 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


riage should be a mutual admiration society. 
Now, I have become acquainted with — yes, dear 
madame, I am acquainted with a woman of most 
uncommon merit. She has published admirable 
sonnets, which Petrarch might envy her if he 
were still alive, and a treatise on the duties and 
virtues of woman, which Fenelon would have 
consented to sign if Bossuet would not have dis- 
puted the honor with him. Are you listening ? 
She lent those precious volumes to a man who 
pretends to be in love with her ; the unfortunate 
fellow could not read them through. I have seen 
both volumes : one is only cut through the first 
half, the other is still untouched, absolutely uncut. 
The best part of the whole thing is, that the poor 
fellow fancies he has read them, and is ready to 
swear that he admires them. But don’t repeat 
my story to Madame Corneuil.” 

“As for Madame Corneuil,” answered she 
with a smile, “ she will undoubtedly publish at 
some future day a book on the duties of mothers, 
and I am sure she will number indiscretion among 
their virtues. Alas ! mothers are often considered 
indiscreet, and the story you have just related is 
well suited to enlighten my daughter upon her 
own feelings and those which Horace pretends to 
have toward her. Besides, I ought to confess to 
you that she herself — ” 

“ Speak, madame, speak ; you ought, you say, 
to confess to me that she herself — ” 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


103 


“ Oh ! my daughter has so profound a soul 
that she keeps her feelings to herself. But for a 
long time I have observed that she is thoughtful, 
serious, almost sad, and I ask myself if she, too, 
may not have reflected.” 

The Marquis let go the arm of Madame V4- 
retz that he might wipe his forehead with his 
handkerchief. There is such a thing in the world 
as perspiration caused by delight. 

“ Ah ! you are glad, old fellow ! ” said Ma- 
dame Veretz within herself. ‘‘You have forgot- 
ten your white hairs. Let us see if you are going 
to speak.” 

The Marquis did not speak. It might have 
been said that his joy was so great as to make 
him forget where he was and with whom. Nev- 
ertheless, he finally remembered ; and, seizing the 
hand of Madame Veretz, he lifted it almost lov- 
ingly to his lips, so that she was afraid he had 
misunderstood. 

“ Dear madame,” said he, “ all men who med- 
dle with literature' have a passion which is stronger 
and more enduring than love, and that is self-love, 
and to kill out the lover it is sometimes only neces- 
sary to scratch the author with the prick of a pin.” 

“We were made to talk together,” said she 
to him ; “ we understand each other with half a 
word. But, I beg you. Monsieur le Marquis, if 
the scratch of a pin does have such a wonderful 
effect, will you tell me your secret ? ” 


104 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


‘‘ No, madame, but I will write it to you.” 

‘‘ That is a thing agreed upon,” answered she, 
giving him her hand, which he pressed convul- 
sively in his gratitude. 

After which she turned toward the pension 
Vallaud, saying to herself, That is the ideal 
son-in-law of my dreams.” 

VI. 

Horace had been reading full twenty minutes. 
They were listening or pretending to listen to him. 
The pretty salon of the chalet was situated on the 
ground -floor, and, as the evening was warm, the 
window had been left open. Had there been 
passers-by, the sound of their footsteps might 
have disturbed him ; but, thanks to Heaven, there 
were no passers-by. Jacquot and his trumpet had 
retired to his attic, and were peacefully sleeping 
in each other’s arms. The birds in the park had 
agreed to keep silence, that they might hear bet- 
ter, without losing a word ; it is true that the 
season had come when they had ceased to sing. 
From the bosom of their ethereal abodes, the 
stars, those dwellers in eternal silence, cast a 
friendly glance upon him. He read with dignity, 
with zeal, and with conviction, but also modestly. 
Now and then he stopped to say : ‘‘ Do you think 
I am going too fast ? When I was a child they 
used to reprove me for sputtering. Is it hard for 
you to follow me ? Do you wish me to begin 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


105 


over again ? You are going to ask for the proofs ; 
wait, I will give them further on. If you have 
any observations to make, do not hesitate, I shall 
be much obliged to you for them.” But they took 
very good care not to make any observation, and 
no one implored him to begin again. 

We said before that he had the precious fac- 
ulty of combining sensations, by which he could 
enjoy several things at the same time, and all 
these different pleasures combined to make but 
one. The exquisite scent of jasmine in bloom 
came into the parlor through the half-open win- 
dow. He breathed in the perfume with delight, 
and, although he was absorbed in his reading, he 
now and then looked out at the stars, and thought 
of those beautiful brown eyes shot with fawn- 
color, which were lovelier to look upon than all 
the stars of heaven. He could not see those beau- 
tiful eyes, for Madame Corneuil was seated upon 
a luxurious divan in the background, where the 
glare of the lamp could not reach her. Reclining 
and silent, she was all ears, for darkness is fa- 
vorable to attention. I can not swear that her 
thoughts did not occasionally wander. She might 
have been thinking of the two uncut volumes. 
Madame Yeretz was seated at her frame, opposite 
the reader, and, as she embroidered, made little 
approving nods to him. Her smile and the sparkle 
of her green eyes also expressed sufficiently the 
lively interest which she took in the Hyksos, un- 


106 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


less that smile meant simply to say, “ Heaven be 
praised, my dear sir — habit makes anything toler- 
able ! ” 

He continued to read, turning over the ‘leaves 
regretfully, for he felt so happy that he wished 
that both his happiness and his reading might 
never come to an end. Before he began, a deli- 
cate hand, which he would have liked to hold for 
ever in his own, had placed before him a large 
glass of sweetened water. He moistened his lips 
with it, hemmed to clear his voice, and then re- 
sumed in these words : 

“We have demonstrated that the history of 
Joseph, son of Jacob, as contained in the thirty- 
fourth chapter of Genesis and those following, 
bears the evident stamp of authenticity. The 
proper names, of so great importance in such 
cases, also bear further evidence. As every one 
knows, the officer of Pharaoh, chief of his guards 
or of his eunuchs, who bought Joseph from the 
Ishmaelites, and with whose wife he had that un- 
fortunate adventure, from which he could only es- 
cape by leaving his cloak behind him, was called 
Potiphar, and Potiphar is nothing if not Pet- 
Phra, which signifies consecrated to Ra, or to the 
sun-god. J oseph received from Pharaoh the title 
of Zphanatpaneach, which must be translated into 
Zpent-Pouch ; now, Zpent-Pouch means the crea- 
tor of life, which proves sufficiently the gratitude 
which the Egyptians bore to Joseph for having 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


107 


provided for their sustenance during the famine. 
The daughter of a priest of On, or Annu, was 
given him in marriage.” 

Here he turned to Madame V4retz : ‘‘Is there 
any necessity of my explaining to you that On, 
or Annu, means the city of the sun, or Heliopolis ? 

“Would you insult me so cruelly?” answered 
she. 

“ Then they bestowed upon him the daughter 
of a priest of On, or Annu, who was called As- 
nath, a name which can he explained as As-Neith, 
thus signifying that she was consecrated to the 
mother of the sun. After this only one thing re- 
mains to be proved to make us sure that the Pha- 
raoh under whose reign Joseph came into Egypt 
was indeed the Shepherd King Apepi.” 

“ Here we are at last ! ” exclaimed Madame 
Yeretz joyfully. “I always loved that Apepi 
without knowing him.” 

“ Oh, I do not pretend to rank him too highly,” 
answered he, “ and I should not dare to affirm even 
that he was a person to be loved ; but he was a 
man of merit, and you will see that he was in some 
measure worthy of the consideration which you 
wish to bestow upon him. Neither can I say that 
he was handsome, although there was character in 
his face. Do you ask how I know this ? In the 
Museum of the Louvre, madame, in Cabinet A of 
the Historical Museum, there is a figure of green 
basalt, somewhat defaced, in which some pretend 


108 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


to recognize the best Saite manner. Unfortu- 
nately, the tablets bearing the inscriptions have 
disappeared. Madame, I have the strongest rea- 
sons for believing that this precious statuette is 
not Saite at all, but the portrait of one of the 
Shepherd kings, and that this Shepherd king is 
Apepi. So you perceive — ” He lifted the glass 
to his lips again and took a second swallow me- 
thodically, as he did everything ; then pursued 
his reading : 

“ For this purpose we are obliged to go further 
back. It was toward the end of the year 1830 
before the Christian era that the sovereigns of the 
dynasty of Thebes began to rise against the Hyk- 
sos. After a long and painful struggle, in which 
they underwent every change of fortune, they 
drove the Shepherds into Lower Egypt. More 
than a century after, th^ king Raskenen was 
seated upon the throne of Thebes ; he is mentioned 
in a papyrus at the British Museum, the impor- 
tance of which no one can fail to estimate. It 
happened, so it is written in this papyrus, that the 
land of Egypt fell into the hands of wicked rulers, 
and at that time there was not a king who was 
possessed of strength, health, or life. But be- 
hold ! the king Raskenen appeared, full of life, 
health, and strength, and he reigned over the re- 
gion of the south. The wicked had possession of 
the fortress of the sun, and the entire country was 
subject to their impositions and taxes. The king 


A STKOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


109 


of the wicked ones was called Apepi, and he chose 
for his lord,” so says the papyrus, “ the god Su- 
tech, that is to say, the god Set, who is no other 
than the Greek god Typhon, genius of evil.” 

“ It is true,” interrupted Madame V 4retz, that 
Sutech, Set, and Typhon, upon close examination, 
do resemble each other strongly.” 

O madame — please ! ” said he to her ; we 
are just coming to the principal point.” 

And he resumed : ‘‘ He erected in his honor a 
temple of solid masonry, and served none other of 
the gods of Egypt. So the papyrus teaches ; and 
this important document proves : 1. That the 
Shepherd kings had taken up their abode in the 
Delta ; 2. That they had all Lower Egypt under 
their domination ; 3. That Apepi — ” 

Just then it occurred to him that it was long 
since he had heard the adored voice, that voice 
which sang Mignon’s song to him so well ; so, 
turning toward the divan, he said : 

“ He was also called Apophis, but Apepi is his 
real name. Which of the two do you prefer, 
Hortense ? ” 

Hortense made no response ; perhaps her emo- 
tion at the narration had taken away her power 
of speech. 

‘‘Apophis or Apepi !” screamed Madame Ve- 
retz to her — “ choose boldly. Monsieur de Penne- 
ville leaves it to your decision.” 

Alas ! she made no reply. 


110 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


Horace started, he felt a chill run through all 
his frame, like a premonition of destiny. He rose, 
seized a light, walked hastily toward the divan. 
It was only too true, he could doubt it no longer 
— Madame Corneuil was asleep ! 

A little more, and he would have let fall from 
his hands the lamp which had thrown so much 
light upon his disaster. He placed it upon a 
stand. 

“ Heavens ! how she sleeps ! ” exclaimed Ma- 
dame Veretz. ‘‘Are you not something of a 
magnetizer?” She moved toward her daughter 
as if to awaken her. He drew her back, saying 
with a bitter sneer : 

“ Oh, respect her repose, I implore you ! ” 

It would be wrong to believe that the self-love 
of both author and reader did not suffer greatly. 
Light broke in upon him : she suddenly came to 
understand that for several months he had either 
deceived himself or allowed himself to be de- 
ceived. Perfectly motionless, with cool, fixed, 
and piercing eye, he gazed upon the face of the 
beautiful sleeper, whose pose was charming, for 
she knew well how to sleep. Nothing could have 
been lovelier than the disarray of her beautiful 
hair, one curl of which fell on her cheek. Her 
lips were parted in a half smile ; probably she 
was dreaming sweetly, she had sought refuge in 
a land where there was no Apepi. 

Horace continued to gaze at her, and I know 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


Ill 


not what scales fell one by one from his eyes. 
Charming as she was, he saw her graces disap- 
pear every moment, and was on the point of 
thinking her plain. In truth, he recognized her 
no longer. The miracle which took place at Sak- 
karah, on coming out of the tomb of Ti, had been 
undone ; the connection between the sleeper and 
Egypt was at an end. On leaving Cairo she had 
borne away in her golden hair, in her smile, and 
in her eyes, some of the sunshine which ripens the 
dates, and delights the heart of the lotus, and 
cheers the yellow sand of the desert with mirages, 
and from which the history of the Pharaohs can 
not hide its secrets. The aureole with which it 
had crowned her brow was extinguished in a mo- 
ment, and he also perceived that her eyelashes 
were too long, her lips too thin, and her arms, 
which were softly rounded, ended in clutching 
hands, with claws beneath them ; that there were 
little lines round her brow and mouth, and these 
coming wrinkles, which he had never before ob- 
served, betrayed to him the base workings of sor- 
did passions — that restlesness of vanity which 
makes women old before their time. Whence 
came this sudden clairvoyance ? He was angry, 
and, say what they may, intense anger is luminous. 

“You must forgive her,” said Madame V 4retz ; 
“I have been watching her narrowly from the 
corner of my eye ; she struggled bravely : unfor- 
tunately, her nerves are not as strong as mine. 


112 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


You have already put her to severe tests ; she bore 
them honorably, but how can one hold out longer 
against that most dreadful of all bores, the Pha- 
raonic bore ? Be careful, my dear count, she has 
so much esteem and friendship for you ; sometimes 
it only takes a very little whim to weary a woman’s 
heart.” 

She pointed alternately to the closed eyes of 
her daughter and the seventy-three leaves. 

‘‘My dear count, you must choose between 
this and that.” 

As he listened, he took note of her with his 
haggard gaze, and her red hair filled him with 
horror. 

“ Really, madame,” said he to her, “ it seems 
as if I were just beginning to know you.” 

At these words he turned toward the table, 
gathered up his papers, put them into his portfo- 
lio, put the portfolio under his arm, made a low 
bow, and escaped. 

“ You can wake up, my dear,” said Madame 
V6retz, laughing ; “we are for ever delivered 
from the King Apepi, who lived forty centuries 
before Christ.” 

A head appeared above the window-sill, and 
a voice exclaimed from without : 

“ Add sixteen to that, madame. It is best al- 
ways to be exact.” 

The Count de Penneville went back to his 
room with death in his soul. That which he so^ 


A STEOKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


113 


bitterly regretted was less a woman than a dream. 
For long months a vision had been the delicious 
companion of his days ; she had never left him ; 
she was interested in everything that he did ; she 
ate and drank with him, she worked with him, 
and dreamed with him. She spoke to him, and 
he answered, and they understood one another 
before the words were spoken. Her voice melted 
his heart. She had golden hair, which had one 
day touched his cheek ; she had lips, too, which 
his own had touched twice. As he went on think- 
ing, his anger made him forget his grief ; the poor 
fellow would have given a great deal to have his 
two kisses back again. 

And yet he still had a faint hope. “ Ho, it 
can not be ; such things do not happen,” thought 
he. ‘‘ She could not have let me leave her thus 
for ever. She will call me back ; she is busy in 
writing to me now. Jacquot will come before 
midnight, bringing me a note which will explain 
all.” Ho Jacquot came, and soon a neighboring 
clock struck midnight. Its melancholy stroke re- 
sembled a funeral-toll. The clock mourned for 
some one who had just died, and Horace realized 
that his dear companion, his vision, was no longer 
in the world. Henceforth he would be alone, ut- 
terly alone, and his solitude filled him with dread. 
His head fell upon his breast, and great tears 
rolled down his cheeks. 

When he lifted his head he saw he was not 
8 


114 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


alone ; that on his table before him stood a little 
statuette a foot high, looking at him. Her name 
was Sekhet, the helper, and she stretched toward 
him her pretty little catlike face full of pitying 
kindness. He ran to her, and took her in his 
hands. Ah ! ” said he, you are here ; how 
could I have forgotten you ? I am not alone if 
you remain to me. Some one said on this very 
spot that roses would fade, but the gods re- 
mained.” As he spoke thus he caressed her 
slender figure and her rounded thighs, and ended 
by kissing her devotedly on the forehead. It 
seemed to him as if the good little Sekhet really 
pitied his sorrows, and was moved and touched 
by them ; that she had a kind little heart, like 
one of the gray nuns, or simply like a good, hon- 
est human being. It seemed to him also that 
there were tears in her eyes, goddess as she was, 
and that she returned his kiss, although she was 
nothing but a bit of blue porcelain. It seemed 
as if she said to him, “ You have come back to 
me, and I will never lend you to any one again.” 
And yet, good Heavens ! she had lent so little of 
him. 

He felt comforted, as if he had purified both 
heart and lips. He stood before the glass, and 
gazed upon himself. He saw that Count Horace’s 
eyes were somewhat red, but, notwithstanding 
that, he saw that Count Horace was still a man. 
He went in search of two large empty trunks 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


115 


which he had put aside in an outer closet ; he 
dragged one after the other into his chamber ; 
two minutes later he began to pack them. 

On the next afternoon the Marquis de Mira- 
val, who strangely enough had omitted that day 
to cross the lake, although the weather was really 
beautiful, received two letters, one of which was 
brought by the postman, the other by Jacquot, 
in a new suit of clothes. 

The first, written in fine and steady hand- 
writing, was expressed in the following manner : 

“ My dear Uncle : The situation is vacant 
and at your service. If you have any commands 
for Vichy, please forward them to Geneva, where 
I shall pass to-night, and leave to-morrow by the 
express-train, which goes at three o’clock, or, to 
speak more correctly, at twenty-five minutes past 
three. Allow me to convey to you my best wish 
for your happiness, and the assurance of my un- 
changing affection.” 

The second, hurriedly scribbled, contained 
these words : 

“ Monsieur le Marquis : Unfortunately you 
spoke the truth. He either did not love at all or 
else very, lightly, since he can not forgive the 
woman whom he pretended to love for having 


116 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


dozed during the reading of his paper upon the 
King Apepi. I will leave you to imagine what 
my daughter thinks of it all ; she has taken the 
full measure of the man, and a woman no longer 
loves the man whom she thus measures. I have 
heard that he left immediately, so you need fear 
my imprudence no longer. Nothing henceforth 
can hinder you from revealing to me your secret, 
or rather, do better still, come and tell it to us to- 
night and dine with us.” 

Jacquot carried back the following answer to 
Madame V6retz : 

“ Deae Madame : So I must reveal to you 
my dreadful secret ! I have an unfortunate pas- 
sion which I conceal carefully out of respect for 
my white hairs. Those of my friends who know 
it have mercilessly made fun of me. With 
blushes I confess it to you, I dote on fishing ! 
When Madame de Penneville sent me to Lau- 
sanne to manage a family affair, I consoled myself 
for my inconvenience by remembering that Lau- 
sanne was near a lake, where I might fish. My 
first thought on arriving was to buy fishing-lines 
and all the other necessary apparatus. I did not 
dare to fish in your neighborhood for fear I might 
be surprised, and that my nephew would laugh at 
me. I made inquiries, and was told that there 
was a pretty little place near Evian, in Savoy, full 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


117 


of fish. There is an inn on the shore, so I en- 
gaged a room there, where I kept all my equip- 
ments, and every morning I crossed the lake to 
satisfy my passion. Since I promised you that I 
would he as truth-telling as Amen-heh (chief 
scribe), I will show you how far I was carried 
away by this mania. I left Lausanne for Ouchy 
with the sole intention of getting near fish ; I for- 
got so entirely the business which brought me 
here that I only went to see my nephew twice — 
one day when it blew, and another when it rained, 
because there was no fishing on those days. I 
also declined two most attractive invitations to 
breakfast, because if I had accepted them I should 
have given up the pleasure of fishing for two 
whole days. The lamentable part of it is, that, in 
spite of my pains, my application, and persever- 
ance, I caught nothing but a few miserable gud- 
geons. I kept saying to myself : ‘This is too 
much ; I will leave it all.’ But I did not leave 
it. When I returned to Lausanne, my faith in 
fish would return, but I believe in them no longer. 
Thus our illusions vanish like our youth ; our 
path is strewed with them. IN'evertheless, yester- 
day, by some incomprehensible miracle, I did 
succeed in catching a good-sized eel, who kindly 
condescended to take my bait — so on that I leave. 
The honor of my white hairs is secure. 

“ I beg you, dear madame, to present to your 
adorable daughter, and also accept for yourself. 


118 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


the most devoted and respectful compliments of 
the Marquis de Miraval.” 

We will not attempt to describe the expres- 
sion which came over the face of Madame V6- 
retz as she took in the full meaning of this reply, 
the cruel embarrassment which she experienced 
in communicating it to her daughter, or the terri- 
ble scene which that adored angel made for her. 
Madame Corneuil is less to be pitied than her 
mother, since, in her misfortune, she at least has 
one resource, that of relieving her mind by the 
most vehement reproaches, the most violent re- 
criminations, and exclamations like “Are you not 
to blame for all this ? ” It is related that in this 
century lived a queen who was very intelligent, 
very enlightened, full of good sentiments, who 
exercised a great and rightful influence in affairs 
of state. It happened, unfortunately, that she 
was once mistaken, and the fate of a lifetime is 
sometimes settled in a minute. From that mo- 
ment she was no longer consulted. The people 
she recommended were no longer accepted ; her 
august husband said, “ I suspect them all — they 
are the friends of my wife.” So, once having 
been mistaken, Madame Veretz lost all her influ- 
ence, all her credit. Her daughter will remind 
her to all eternity that she once allowed her to 
let go her prey, to chase a phantom with white 
hair. 


A STROKE OF DIPLOMACY. 


119 


When the Count Horace de Penneville en- 
tered the station at Geneva, impatient to go by 
the train which leaves not at three o’clock, but at 
twenty-five minutes past three, in the afternoon, 
he was greatly astonished to find, seated in a cor- 
ner of the very -carriage which he happened to 
enter, the Marquis de Miraval, his great-uncle, 
who remarked to him, as he helped him to stow 
away carefully all his numberless little parcels 
under the seat and upon the rack, ‘‘My son, I 
have thought the matter well over, and have come 
to the conclusion that there is no faith to be put 
in women who like Apepi one day and dislike him 
the next.” 


THE END, 


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